From Bathroom To Bedroom, and Beyond
by popecatapetal
Summary: A bathroom is an odd place to meet your soulmate, but in an infinite universe, it has to happen somewhere. A/N new longer chapters, same great content!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:**** Needless to say, I am not Joss Whedon**

**Update: I decided to condense the story slightly, as the itty bitty chapters were bugging me. Don't worry, I just put some of the chapters together, I haven't changed anything! Well, except Dawn's age – I've lowered that from fifteen to fourteen. It's still not as young as she's supposed to be, but I thought the love story was more realistic this way, rather than having her falling madly in love at twelve or thirteen (not to mention it's **_**slightly **_**less illegal!). Hope you enjoy the new format!**

Prologue

"Buffy! I _really_ need to pee!" Dawn whimpered as her sister dragged her by the hand out their front door.

"We'll be at Giles' place in a few minutes, you can go then," Buffy snapped. "But I have to go talk to him, and there's no way I'm leaving you on your own in the house."

"I'm nearly fifteen," Dawn replied indignantly. "All the girls in my class are allowed stay on their own, some of them even babysit! How come I have to come with you?"

"Because the last time Mom left you in the house on your own, you decided to go out, alone, at night, in Sunnydale, and you almost got killed!"

"First of all, I wasn't supposed to be alone – you were _supposed_ to minding me. And we were out of Cheetos. I was just going down to the store to get some. And anyway, it was only a little vampire. It-"

Buffy gave a little scream of irritation, and snapped, "Stop dawdling, I thought you had to pee!"

Dawn glared at her. "I was _trying_ to distract myself. Now you've reminded me again!"

~*~

Buffy opened Giles' heavy wooden door and called, "Giles? I got your message – what's the emergency?" Dawn pushed her aside as she scurried madly for the bathroom. She sat on the toilet with a blissful sigh, and it was only when she reached for the toilet paper that she realised there was a blonde-haired man with a surprised expression on his face sitting, fully clothed and manacled, in the bath tub.

"Eep!" she squeaked.

The man's expression shifted from surprised to amused in a flash. "'ello, little mouse," he said, smirking.

"Who are you?" Dawn asked, glaring at him. "And why are you in Mr. Giles' bathroom?"

"I'm Spike," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Do you often sit in other peoples' bath tubs?" Dawn asked.

"Not very often, no. Don't even sit in my own all that often, to be honest." He smirked again.

Dawn sniffed at him, then giggled. "You really don't, do you?"

"Oi!" he yelped. "I'm offended now! And don't you go sniffing me – I don't even know you!"

"I'm Dawn," Dawn said, offering him her hand. He raised his shackled arms slightly and shook them, making the chains jingle.

"I'm a little tied up right now, pet," he said. "And besides, in case you hadn't noticed, you're sitting on the soddin' loo at the moment. Haven't you ever heard of germs?"

Dawn flushed slightly. "Well, I can't really finish up here with you watching, can I!"

Spike closed his eyes theatrically, and turned his face to the wall. "Fine, no peeking," he assured her.

She hurriedly grabbed a bit of paper, then pulled her pants up and flushed the toilet. As she walked over to the sink, she said, "Okay, you can look now. So why are you in here, anyway?"

His face morphed into the characteristic vampire ridges. Showing his elongated canine teeth, he growled, "Cos I'm a big bad nasty vampire who eats little girls like you."

He looked at her expectantly, but when all she did was say, "I'm not little, I'm nearly fifteen," his face fell and his shoulders slumped.

Dawn looked with surprise at the downtrodden way the vampire reacted, and felt a wave of sympathy. She squatted down beside the bath and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Don't be sad," she said gently. "You really are very scary and evil-looking, I'm just sort of used to vampires. My sister Buffy is the Slayer, see." Spike continued to sit miserably with head hung. Dawn suddenly said, "Why don't you try again?"

Spike raised his head, a slightly happier look in his golden eyes. "Really?" he asked, then looked sad again. "No, there's no point. It's no fun when you're just pretending."

"I'll be totally convincing," Dawn promised. "I'm a really good actress, and I was Rapunzel in first grade, so I'm like, qualified at being the damsel in distress." A thought struck her. "Maybe you could bite me? I'd probably be scared then for real. But I don't want to be a vampire... Do you always turn into a vampire if you get bitten by one?"

Spike was grinning widely now, which somehow made his terrifying visage look less frightening, even though it brought his jagged teeth into even greater prominence. "No, the vampire has to drain all the blood out of you. And then you have to drink some of their blood too," he explained, amusement evident in his voice. "And thanks for the offer – you do look like a nummy little treat." His smile faded. "But I can't bite anything at the moment."

"Do you have toothache?" Dawn asked sympathetically. "Cos I had that once, and it was so sore that Buffy had to give me Mom's prescription pain stuff until I could get to the dentist, and-"

"No," Spike interrupted her, laughing again. "No toothache. I keep my pearly whites in proper working order." He flashed her another very pointy smile. "But I've got this problem at the moment, see. A chip in my head, making me behave myself."

Dawn looked indignant. "So why are you locked up then?"

"I suppose the poncy old Watcher doesn't trust me," Spike said, with a shrug. "And he's bloody right not to. If I had this chip out, I'd gut the bastard. But-"

He was interrupted by a shriek from outside the bathroom door. "Dawn!" The door burst open, and Buffy whirled in, a frantic look on her face. When she spotted Dawn crouching on the floor next to Spike, who still had his game face on, the panic changed to fury. She grabbed Dawn's arm and jerked her to her feet and away from the vampire. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Dawn wrenched her arm out of Buffy's grip and glared at her. "I was peeing."

"You were talking to Spike!" Buffy yelled at her.

"Well, it would have been bloody rude of her to pee in front of me and not introduce herself," Spike said, grinning. His face had returned to its human contours once more, but the smirk was certainly not endearing him to Buffy.

She punched him in the face and hissed, "Stay the hell away from my sister, you bastard." Although she had not used anywhere near all of her Slayer strength, the force was sufficient to bloody his nose and send his head whipping back to crack against the wall. Dawn gave a cry and darted forward to help him, but Buffy grabbed her by the arm again and pulled her out of the bathroom, berating her loudly for her actions. As she was tugged through the door, Dawn turned and gave the vampire a wave and a little smile. Spike, who had his hand to his nose to stop the blood, grinned back at her.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Dawn knocked on the door and called, "Mr. Giles? Is Buffy here? She was supposed to pick me up from school! Not that I need her to pick me up," she added, in a mutter. "I'm not a little kid, I'm able to walk home from school by myself." But the door didn't open. Dawn could hear voices inside, so she tried the handle, and the door swung inwards. Giles was standing at the breakfast bar, his hand over his eyes. Dawn hurried over to him and asked, "Are you okay, Mr. Giles?"

"No, I- er, I seem to be... blind..." Giles said hesitantly, as though still trying to come to grips with the fact.

Dawn gaped at him. "What? When did this happen? How?"

Buffy's voice came from behind her. "We don't know. We're researching spells to help fix it now."

Dawn turned around to her sister, only to goggle even harder – Buffy was sitting in Spike's lap. His arms were around her waist, and they were indeed studying together from a large leather-bound volume. "What are you doing?!" she yelped. "The last time I was here, he got a broken nose and I got grounded for a week for being in the same room as him, and now you're cuddling?!"

Buffy jumped up, but not, as Dawn assumed, from the embarrassment of being caught embracing the vampire. Instead, she glared at Dawn and shouted, "Dawnie, how could you be such a bitch? Spike and I are in love! We're getting married!"

Dawn stared at her for a few moments, then turned to Giles and said, "What's going on, Mr. Giles? Is it a spell?" Giles began hesitantly to explain his theories, but stopped when the sound of a loud slap filled the room.

Dawn turned slowly back to her sister, her hand raised to her stinging cheek. Buffy was standing right behind her, holding her arm aloft. "Don't you dare dismiss our love as just the result of a spell!" she screeched in Dawn's face. "You're just jealous!" She turned back to Spike, who was still sitting in the chair they had been sharing up until a few minutes before. He looked uncomfortable, with a look of both adoration and disgust on his face, but when Buffy announced, "Spike, we're leaving!" he rose from the chair and followed her meekly from the room, an apologetic look on his face as he passed Dawn.

Dawn stood frozen for a few moments, tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away and said, "I'm going to call Willow, Mr. Giles. She might know how to help."

"Er, yes, it is possible. H-However, I was at the dorm earlier today, and she was quite... out of sorts. She told me that I didn't understand anything, didn't see anything..." He seemed upset by her dismissal of him, but he pulled himself together again, and said, "B-But you are right, you should call her."

She strode over to the phone, and dialled the number of Buffy and Willow's room at college. It rang a few times, and then Willow picked up. "Hello?"

"Willow," Dawn said, "There's something wrong. I need your help."

"_Something's wrong_," Willow repeated, flatly. "Is that all you ever need me for? _Help us fix this, Willow_. Doesn't anyone ever care how I'm doing?"

"Wil..." Dawn said nervously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, but-"

"No! It's not always about you!" Willow interrupted, her voice breaking. "There's other people in trouble too! Grow up!" There was a crackle of static, and then the line went dead.

Dawn stood holding the phone for a few seconds, then put it down and turned to Giles. "I think there's something really wrong with Willow," she said.

"Em, yes. I'll let... I'll let Xander and Anya know. Th-They should go over to the college and try to find her. Er- Dawn, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Dawn said impatiently. "I'm going to go find Buffy. If she comes back here, send her over to Willow. I think she needs help." She strode towards the door.

"D-Dawn!" Giles called after her. "I don't think Buffy w-would want you to go out there on your own!"

Dawn turned around outside the door and said, "It's alright, Giles, I'm not a little kid!"

~*~

Spike groaned as Buffy pulled him to the window of yet another bridal store and squealed over the enormous puffy white dresses within. His brain was awash with emotions – there was his usual vampiric loathing of Slayers in general, his deep personal hatred of this particular Slayer, and then, overshadowing everything else, there was a completely unfamiliar haze of love and adoration for the irritating little bint. Everything she did stirred up so many conflicting emotions within him, he felt almost seasick. He couldn't deal with bloody awful wedding gowns on top of all that.

He stood with his back to the window and watched the street, trying his best to ignore the exclamations of his despised betrothed. There were still a small few pedestrians walking along the pavements, clutching shopping bags or briefcases as they returned to their cars. A kindly grey-haired old lady looked indulgently at Buffy and gave Spike a congratulatory smile. He allowed his fangs to lengthen slightly as he snarled at her, and felt his heart lighten as she blanched and scuttled away.

Then his attention was caught by a tall brunette who was striding towards them. He wasn't sure why he was so fascinated by her. Sure, she was attractive – went in and out in all the right places, long legs, deliciously ample chest, shiny wavy hair... He shook himself. Fine, she was glorious, but it was more than that – she was striking in ways that had nothing to do with her figure. She seemed to radiate a certain... It wasn't exactly confidence, not in the way that his beloved, detested Buffy was confident, in a brash, aggressive sort of way. This girl was simply self-assured, with a hint of mischief in her very... familiar... eyes...

He gaped at her. Eventually, Buffy noticed his inattention to her wedding chatter and turned to berate him. Then she noticed where his attentions were focused, and her eyes narrowed. "So you're eyeing up passing girls, while I'm planning our wedding?" she shrieked. "You selfish inconsiderate-"

"Shut up," he growled, startling her into silence. "Buffy, it's..."

The brunette had stopped next to them. "Buffy, Willow's in trouble," she said without preamble, but broke off when she noticed Buffy still glaring and Spike still staring. "Geez, what's with you guys?"

"How do you know my name?" Buffy demanded. "And how do you know Willow? Did she send you? Did-"

"Buffy," Spike said warningly.

The brunette was looking confused and a little angry. "Are you still mad about that thing I said at Giles' place? Cos I'm sorry I said you only loved Spike cos of a spell, even if you did hate him like, three hours ago. But there's no need to be a cow about it!"

Buffy's eyes bulged. "D-Dawnie?!"

"Duh, who else would I be?" Dawn asked, rolling her eyes.

"Actually, that's a bloody good question at the moment," Spike said, grinning. "And I did try to tell you, my darling." He grimaced as the words left his lips.

Dawn glared at both of them. "What the heck is wrong with you guys? Honestly, grown ups are so weird."

~*~

After they had persuaded Dawn to look in a mirror in the bathroom of the local McDonald's, convincing her that she had also been affected by the spell, Spike, Buffy and Dawn headed for the college dorms. Dawn kept looking surreptitiously down at her new and improved breasts. At least, she thought she was being surreptitious, but then Spike dropped back to walk with her, and remarked, "Yes, they are rather nice, aren't they?"

She blushed crimson, and quickly averted her eyes. "I can't think how I didn't notice sooner," she mumbled.

"Yeah, they're just staring you in the face," Spike said with a lascivious grin.

Dawn squeaked and slapped him on the arm. "You shouldn't notice things like that, I'm only fourteen!"

"Don't look it, pet, you look all grown up," Spike said, the grin still twisting the corners of his mouth. He was mainly saying it to annoy her, but part of his brain thoroughly agreed with the sentiment, and part of his body was beginning to respond.

"Oh!" Dawn cried, coming to a halt. " 'All grown up'! That's what Willow said! On the phone, when I called to tell her about you two, she said I should grow up!"

"You told Willow about me and Spike?" Buffy asked, looking illogically disappointed. "But I wanted to tell her!"

"That is so not the point!" Dawn said, waving her hands for emphasis. "What if Willow did a spell? To make people do what she said! That'd make something like this happen! Oh!" she shouted again. "Oh! And Giles said she said he couldn't see anything! That's it, Willow did a spell!"

"Willow did a spell?" said Xander's voice from ahead of them. "What spell? Does it make demons want to kill me?" Xander and Anya were surrounded by a ring of demons of various shapes and sizes. They were both brandishing large axes, but were unable to do more than keep them at bay. Buffy rushed forward to help them, but was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of monsters. With a groan, Spike raced after his beloved enemy and tapped a demon on the shoulder. When it turned to face him, he punched it in one of its mouths, then doubled up, clutching his head in preparation for the pain he expected to fill him – but didn't.

"I can kill demons!" he roared triumphantly, and leaped into the fray with more enthusiasm than he had shown since the bloody soldier boys had nabbed him, and quickly dispatched the assorted monsters.

Xander sat down, panting. "Thank God," he gasped. "We've been holding them off since they came through the window in the basement, but more and more of them kept coming!"

"We've been searching for you for almost an hour," Anya added reproachfully.

"Sorry, I've been a bit busy with Spike," Buffy said.

"Wait, what?" Xander looked at Buffy's companions and finally noticed that the vampire was present. "Spike! He's not tied up any more! ...and you probably already knew that. Did he escape? Were you hunting him?" he asked hopefully.

"We were shopping for a wedding dress," Buffy said happily, returning to her position with her arms around Spike's waist again. "We're getting married!"

"How? What? How?"

"Don't say that, she'll slap you," grumbled Dawn.

Xander jumped. "That's Dawn's voice! That's... Whoa, that's Dawn?"

"Yeah, it's me. We think Willow did a spell. She told me to grow up, and then this happened, and earlier she said Giles was blind, and now he totally can't see. It's this whole big thing." She looked at Xander. "What's wrong with you?"

Xander was making little noises of recognition and rubbing his temples. "Oh! Oh! Willow said... She said you and Spike should just get married," he said, pointing to Buffy. "She said that Spike was more important to you than she was, and you should just marry him already!"

Spike, Anya and Dawn shared looks of sudden comprehension. Buffy, however, simply said, "I'm way ahead of her," and smugly leaned her head back in towards Spike.

He grabbed her roughly and held her at arms' length. "Oh for Christ's sake, you daft bint, snap out of it! It's a damn spell! We hate each other!" Buffy's eyes filled with tears. Spike growled. "Let's find Willow and get her to fix this. Now."

~*~

Spike lay in the bath tub and sulkily tried to ignore the Watcher pottering about the flat. The old git had been far too chipper ever since they had returned after rescuing Willow from the clutches of the talent-scouting Vengeance demon. So he had his eyesight back again. Big deal. It wasn't like he could ever see very well in the first place.

_He_ had far more of a right to be relieved that the spell had been broken. It wasn't as if the bloody _Watcher_ had been the one to come to his senses with the Slayer's tongue down his throat. No, that had been Spike. He shuddered at the memory, and sipped some lukewarm pig's blood through a straw from a mug balancing on the side of the bath. It was foul stuff, but better than essence of Buffy Summers.

Now, essence of mini-Summers, that would be a different matter. She had looked bloody delectable tonight, all tall and curvy and poised. And she had smelled so good... Spike's eyes closed and a smile spread over his face as he remembered her scent. Then the smile turned to a puzzled expression and his eyes opened. He hadn't got close enough to her tonight to smell her properly, so how was she filling his nostrils like that?

Then he remembered her crouching on the tiled floor of the bathroom, over a week ago, her hair brushing against his hand on the side of the bath, the smooth pale skin of her neck stretched taut as she offered to let him bite her to make him feel better. He groaned. If he still had her scent in his nostrils after this long, that meant it wasn't just her delicious spell-matured body he was drooling over. He was also completely obsessed with the Slayer's fourteen-year-old babbling, irritating, kind, beautiful kid sister.

First he'd got engaged to the Slayer, now he was infatuated with her little sister. He was a disgrace to the name of bad-ass vampire.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"You want me to tear this place apart, you bloody poof?"

"That's it! I am way past through with you! Hate to break it to you, oh impotent one, but you're not the Big Bad anymore. You're not even the Kinda Naughty. You're nothing but a waste of space. My space. And as much as I always got a big laugh watching Buffy kick your shiny white bum, and as much as I know I can give you a little bum-kicking myself right now, I'm here to tell you something – you're not even worth it." Xander looked at him in disgust. "I'm outta here."

And he was gone, leaving Spike standing alone in the rank pit that was the Whelp's basement apartment, wearing his ridiculous shorts and revolting shirt, and thinking about death. Well, not death, exactly – he was already dead, there wasn't much he could do about that. But he considered how easy it would be to simply strap a stake to the hideous coffee table and launch himself from the sofa, ending his unlife in a brief shower of crumbling ash. Then he looked around him. He was damn sure not going to do it here.

Grabbing his leather coat, he climbed the stairs that led to the outside world and a more suitable end to his long and wicked existence.

~*~

Spike rested against the wall of a large family crypt and scowled. How hard could it be to find the perfect spot to die? But he'd been at it all day, and he hadn't been happy with any of the options open to him so far. The sun had been shining when he had left Harris's house, but he had never liked the thought of immolation. Seemed too noisy and unhygienic. So he had sheltered under his coat and taken refuge in the sewers. There was no way he was going to kill himself, so to speak, down there, however. He had some self respect left.

He'd even stolen himself some new clothes once the sun had set. A bloke's got to look his best when he kicks the bucket. But there was still nowhere that he could imagine himself being glad to see in his final moments. "'s got to be right," he muttered to himself.

"What's got to be right?" asked a familiar voice.

He jumped, startled, then doubled over with a yelp as a searing pain shot through his head. "Bloody hell, I didn't even touch anyone!" he howled, pounding at his aching head in an effort to dislodge the chip.

"Actually, I think you just hit your head on that ugly stone monster-y thing," said Dawn helpfully, coming around the corner of the crypt. "The one that looks like it's just smelled a big steaming pile of horse poo, not the one that looks like something pointy's been shoved up its-"

"No!" Spike yelped, hurriedly cutting her off. "I mean, yes! I mean, what are you doing here?!"

Dawn giggled. "I thought you were supposed to be all evil and stuff?"

Spike glared at her. "I _am_ evil," he growled. "Mean and nasty and wicked and everything."

"And yet you won't let me say 'ass'?" Dawn rolled her eyes when Spike yelped again. "Come on, I'm nearly fifteen years old, _and_ we've got cable. I know loads of way worse words."

"Which you will not be demonstrating to me!" Spike interrupted again. "In my day, little girls were seen and not heard. And absolutely never said ass, unless they were referring to a donkey."

Dawn was giggling again. Spike glared at her, which had no effect at all, except to make her giggle even harder. "You sound like such a cranky old man! 'In my day-'! And anyway, Anya says that when she was a human before, little girls my age were married and had already 'produced many tiny screaming babies'. So nyah!" And, as if delivering the deciding remark in a debate, she stuck out her tongue at him.

It was too much for him. All through her cheerful torrent of chatter, he had been fighting to remain sulky and depressed, but at her closing childish gesture, he finally broke. He snorted with laughter and sank to the ground by the crypt, leaning against the wall and laughing hysterically. All of the stress and the emotions of the day left him as he chortled.

Dawn sat beside him, also snickering, but seeming to realise that he was laughing at more than just her actions. She patted him on the shoulder, remembering how her awkward efforts had comforted him on that first day in the bathroom. But instead of calming him today, her touch seemed to have an electrifying effect on him. He jerked away from her, looking startled, and clambered quickly to his feet.

Dawn's face fell. "I was just trying to help," she muttered, clambering to her feet and turning away.

"No!" Spike choked, a lump in his throat. "Nibblet, I didn't mean... Shit." He ran his hand through his hair, messing up the gel that held it in place. "I didn't mean to upset you, pet," he said, more gently. "I just... Today has not been a good day."

Dawn turned back to face him. "And after that shitty day, what could be worse than a stupid kid trying to be nice to you?" she asked coldly.

"God no!" Spike exclaimed fervently, a shocked look on his face. "That's not it at all, I swear it's not. I just wasn't expecting you to... anyone to..." He took a deep breath to try to calm himself. "Nibblet, after a shitty day like today, what could be better than a smart woman being nicer to me than anyone has been in over a hundred years?" He smiled down at her. "Thank you."

"Geez, Spike, that is so cheesy," Dawn said, beaming at the compliment even as she tried to sound unmoved by it. "You should, like, make Hallmark cards or something."

Spike pulled Dawn into a one-armed hug and ruffled her hair with the other hand. She ducked out of his embrace, shrieking, and glared at him. "You messed my hair, you jerk!" she screeched. Then she noticed his own hair, mussed from running his hand through it earlier, and laughed. "Why do you put that stuff in your hair?" she asked, giggling. "It looks so much cuter all curly like that."

Spike's hand flew to his disarranged hair and looked fiercely at her. "I am not cute, I am na-"

"-nasty and evil," Dawn chorused with him, giggling even harder. "I know, I know. But you do look much hotter with your hair like that. Come on, let's go back to Xander's."

All thoughts of suicide forgotten, Spike walked out of the graveyard with Dawn. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye every few steps, and each time he looked at her, his heart, old and dusty though it was, gave a sharp thump. He vowed never to wear hair gel again.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Dawn, I have to go over to Giles' place."

"I thought he was a feral demon?" Dawn asked distractedly, chewing the end of her pencil.

"A _Fyarl_ demon, and no. He's back to regular old Giles now. Anyway, get your stuff, you're coming too. Have you finished your homework?"

"I'm just finishing now, but I haven't had any dinner yet," Dawn grumbled, putting down the pencil and starting to pack up her rucksack. "And I think all the stuff Mom left in the fridge is gone. When is she getting back?"

"I don't know. The exhibition ran on, she'll be back in a few days. Until then," Buffy sighed, "we can stop off on the way and get McDonald's."

"Yay, processed meaty goodness!" Dawn cheered, perking up. "Oh, and can we get curly fries for Spike? He likes curly fries."

"No," Buffy snapped. "Look, we're only going over there because I need to tell Giles about some Slayer stuff. We're not going on a social call. You are not to talk to Spike. He's one of the bad guys, remember?"

Dawn rolled her eyes, but refrained from commenting. _Buffy's just biased cos she's the Slayer and Spike's a vampire_, she thought. _But I've actually talked to him. I don't just beat him to a bloody pulp every time I see him, and think that means I know him. He actually listens to me when I say stuff, and he cares about what I think, and he talks to me like I'm a person, not just the Slayer's kid sister._

~*~

Dawn sat on the kitchen counter, nibbling at a french fry and glaring at Buffy and Giles, who were poring avidly over a map of the sewer system.

"What are you so grumpy about, Little Bit?" said a voice in her ear.

She squeaked and jumped. "Spike!" she said in a forceful whisper. "Don't sneak up on people like that!"

"Sorry," Spike said, smirking at her in a way that contradicted his apology. "What you doin' here anyway?"

"Mom's in New York, doing stuff for the gallery. She was supposed to be back two days ago, but she got delayed. So Buffy had to bring me with her to her secret meeting, and she's all pissed about it, so I'm staying out of her way. Oh, and Buffy can't cook, so we got McDonald's. I saved my curly fries for you," she added, holding out a box.

"Did you get any barbecue sauce?" he asked hopefully, stuffing three fries into his mouth at once.

"Yup. But I don't know how you can eat that stuff," Dawn said, shuddering. She gave him a little tub of brown sauce, and pretended to gag when he poured it all over the remaining fries. "Ew. Want me to make you a Dawn Surprise?"

Spike snorted. "You get physically ill when confronted by barbecue sauce, yet you happily volunteer to make spiced blood? Anyone ever tell you you're a bit odd?"

Dawn stuck her tongue out at him. "Do you want me to make it for you or not?"

"Course I do, I'm just pointing out how strange you are, is all. Oh, make it like you did last time, with the chilli powder. That was bloody amazing."

Dawn grinned, and began to mix various spices together in a mug. She added a splash of whiskey from the bottle of Jack Daniels in the press, and got a bag of blood out of the fridge and emptied the contents into the mug. Then she glanced at Spike over her shoulder. He was still busy with his fries, trying to use the last one to wipe up all the remaining sauce. Satisfied that he was sufficiently distracted, she got a sharp knife out of the cutlery drawer and, with her back to him, carefully sliced her palm along the cut that was starting to heal. Blood welled from it, and she held her hand over the mug, allowing a small trickle to fall into the mixture. Then she popped it in the microwave and washed her hands. The cut had already stopped bleeding.

After two minutes, the microwave dinged, and Dawn retrieved the mug and passed it to Spike. "Just the way you like it."

Spike took a small sip and sighed in ecstasy. "Bloody fantastic," he said reverently. "I don't know how you do it, pet. It doesn't taste like pig's blood at all." He took a larger gulp, his eyes closed to savour it as thoroughly as possible. "You'll have to show me how you make it, what with me moving to my own place soon."

Dawn froze. _I can't tell him_, she thought. _He'd be so pissed!_ "Y-You're moving? Where?" she asked, trying to distract him.

"Don't worry, pet, I'm only moving down the road," Spike assured her with a chuckle. "Nice little crypt in the cemetery, wired for electricity and everything. I'll have a microwave, so I'll be able to make this as often as I want. So what do you put in?"

"Em... Chilli powder, like you said, and some cinnamon and cloves, and a bit of bourbon, and a tiny bit of black pepper, and some lime juice..." She trailed off, not wanting to reveal the final ingredient.

Spike swilled the last of the mixture around in his mouth, tasting it carefully. "Tastes like there's something else too," he commented. "Maybe it's just how they mix together. Here, pass me a bag – I'll try making it myself, and you can correct me if I'm doing it wrong."

Dawn bit her lip, but could see no way out of it. She carefully guided Spike through each step of the preparation, bar the last one. When it had been warmed, Spike took a sip and tasted it thoughtfully. "Hmmm... Something's definitely missing," he said. "Are you sure there wasn't anything else?"

Dawn knew the game was up. Not meeting his eyes, she took the mug from him and turned her back. She picked up the knife and held it in her hand. A quick movement of her wrist, and her palm was bleeding again. She allowed a few drops of blood fall into the mixture, then passed the mug back to Spike, still not looking at him. He looked at her curiously, but took the mug and tasted it again. His eyes widened. "That's it, that's what was missing! What did you put in it?"

A miserable look on her down-turned face, she held out her hand to Spike. Palm up, her fingers were cupped and a pool of blood had formed in it. She stood like that for almost a minute, but when Spike still didn't move or say anything, she tried to explain. "It was an accident the first time," she whispered. "I cut my hand trying to open the bag of blood, and I didn't notice, but you said it tasted so much better than it ever had before, and I realised afterwards what had happened. It was only a few times. You just... you liked it so much, and I just wanted to..." She trailed off and looked at him again, a pleading look on her face.

Her heart lurched when she saw the golden tint in his eyes.

~*~

He was staring at her hand. The blood still hadn't stopped flowing, and the pool of blood was spilling out of her cupped hand. It trickled down her wrist and around the back of her hand. Occasionally a drop would fall to the floor. His eyes followed each drip with animal hunger. Slowly, he reached out and took her hand, and in total silence, he raised it to his mouth and lapped gently at the pooled blood.

Dawn watched the rapt expression spread across his face as he drank. At first he was almost reverent, savouring each taste, but it quickly increased in speed to a furious gulping. He sucked each of her fingers into his mouth, one by one, his tongue wrapping tenderly around them. His tongue pressed roughly against her wrist, and then his mouth was sucking at the cut on her palm. His teeth were grazing the skin around the wound as he madly increased the suction, and suddenly they were no longer flat and even, but sharp, pointed, scraping the skin of her hand.

She gasped in a mixture of pleasure and pain as his fangs pierced her skin, but he gave a yelp and pulled sharply away from her, clutching his forehead. His face slipped out of the ridges of his vampire façade, and his eyes shifted from golden to a deep blue. "Fuck," he said hoarsely, and it wasn't clear whether he was saying this due to the pain from his chip, or because the realization of what he had just done had hit him. He looked at Dawn, who was still standing with her hand outstretched to him, her eyes unfocussed, her pupils dilated, her breathing shallow. "Dawn-"

He was interrupted by Buffy and Giles entering the kitchen area at a run. "Is everything alright? You shouted-" They looked from Spike to Dawn and back, panicked expressions on their faces.

Spike pulled himself together. "Everything's fine," he said, trying to keep the hunger from his voice. "The Nibblet just cut her hand, is all."

Buffy glared suspiciously at him for a few moments, then turned to Dawn. "Come on, Dawnie, let's bandage you up. And then we'll go home – I think we're finished here?" She addressed the last remark to Giles, who nodded.

They both escorted Dawn to the bathroom to attend to her hand, leaving Spike standing in the kitchen, a shocked look on his face, as he licked the last of her glorious blood from the corner of his mouth.

~*~

Dawn lay in bed, her eyes unfocussed and staring into the distance. Her hands were on her stomach, and the finger of one was trailing along the cut on the other. Each time she touched it, it sent chills along every nerve in her body.

Despite her still exterior, her mind was racing, going over the... incident with Spike. She had never seen him like that before. Admittedly, she'd only known him for a month, but it seemed like a lot longer. And before tonight, he had always been... well, he'd never been like that before. He was usually playful, teasing her and complimenting her and grossing her out with stories of how evil he had been and, of course, still was.

But tonight... She moaned softly. She had never seen him like that before. She'd never seen _anyone_ like that before. He had looked at her like he had really needed her. And the way he had touched her... She was breathing shallowly now, taking panting little breaths as she remembered the feel of his tongue against her wrist, the gentle suction around her fingers, the incessant pumping of her pulse as he had sucked her blood into his mouth...

Her finger felt wet. She looked down at it. It was glistening darkly in the dim room. She had rubbed the scab off the cut on her hand. Without any conscious decision, she slowly lifted the finger to her mouth and touched it gently against her lips. Her tongue flicked out and licked at the drop of blood. She closed her eyes blissfully as she savoured the taste, and sucked the rest of the blood from her finger.

When it was clean, she raised her other hand to her mouth and ran her tongue lightly over the drops of blood welling up from the wound. Her uninjured hand slid beneath the waist of her pyjama bottoms and into her underwear. Her breath was coming in light gasps now as she stroked herself, and she continued licking the blood from her hand.

As her arousal grew, she sucked harder at the cut, drawing more blood from it. Her teeth scraped against it, and she moaned loudly. She bit down on her hand to stifle the noise, and the sensation of teeth digging into her skin pushed her over the edge. Her teeth still clamped into the flesh of her palm, and her body arching from the bed, she came with a strangled cry of ecstasy.

She flopped limply back to the mattress, her hand falling from her mouth. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was curled in a soft smile. As she drifted off to sleep, she quietly whispered, "Spike..."

~*~

Spike rested his forehead against the cool surface of the wall in Giles' spare bedroom, his room now, and murmured, "Fuck..." His hand reached into his jeans and adjusted himself, trying to position his rock-hard erection into a comfortable arrangement, but it was futile. He kept remembering the feel of her pulse beneath his lips as he licked her wrist. The taste of her blood was still in his mouth, lasting longer and filling him with more longing than anyone else he had ever tasted. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the fearful expression on her face as she offered him her palm in a stunning gesture of subservience, and the way that longing had overcome the fear when he had not rejected her.

He could still taste her in his mouth, but even stronger than her blood, he could taste her desire, her arousal, and he couldn't stop himself. He unfastened his jeans and freed his cock, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking his length. His eyes closed with a moan as he moved his hand up and down the shaft faster and faster, and he sucked at his lips furiously, hoping to find one last trace of her essence there.

He felt his peak approaching faster than it had ever arrived before. He tried desperately to pull back, to make it last longer, but the image of Dawn standing with her hand outstretched to him, blood pooling in her palm for him, her eyes heavy with desire, appeared in his mind and sent him careening over the edge. Every muscle in his body tensed, and with a shuddering gasp he came harder than he had ever done.

He collapsed onto the bed and lay there, unable to move, for an eternity, all the while thinking nothing but, "Dawn..."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Dawn knocked on Spike's front door, frowning as she noticed the rusted metalwork and the air of neglect. When there was no answer, she pushed the door open and stepped inside the crypt. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of mould, and wrapped her coat tighter around her as a wave of cold, damp air hit her.

She glanced down at the slip of paper Spike had slipped in her bedroom window the night before, giving her directions on how to find his new home. Yes, she was in the right place. But it was so filthy...

"Spike?" she called quietly, but there was no answer. _He's probably out buying blood_, she thought, trying to reassure herself that nothing had happened to him. _I'll just wait here for him to get back._ She hopped up onto a large stone sarcophagus and sat, cross-legged, on top of it, rubbing absently at a long scab on her left palm.

~*~

Spike roared in pain and clutched at his side. The demon's drooling mouth gaped in a triumphant smile, and it closed in to finish him off while he was out of action.

He looked desperately around him for the knife he had dropped when the demon had slashed at him, but it was too far away, and the monster was too close to him. With a snarl, Spike spun around and sank his fangs into the demon's throat and jerked his head back, twisting. The demon collapsed to the ground, black blood gushing from the remains of its neck.

Spike spat the foul lump of flesh beside it and the staggered away, retching. He bent over a headstone to vomit, and the lesions in his side seared in pain. Whimpering, he stumbled across the graveyard to his crypt. _At least it's close to work_, he thought wryly, trying to distract himself from the blinding pain. _It would be really horrible to have to walk back to Giles' apartment after that. His warm apartment, with the bed and the shower... Truly awful._

He fell through the door and crumpled to the ground inside with a moan. "Fuck..." He couldn't go any further.

As he passed out, he dimly registered soft hands stroking his back.

~*~

Dawn knelt by Spike's mangled body and stared down at him, terrified by the severity of his injuries. She was on the verge of panic, but she took deep breaths and told herself sternly, _You're no use to him if you don't stay calm._ She was shaking slightly, but her grip was firm as she wrapped her arms around his torso and dragged him over to the moth-eaten couch. She hauled him up onto it, trying desperately not to jar him too badly, then looked around the crypt for a first aid kit.

There was one beneath the little table that his television rested on. She seized it and opened it up, spreading the contents on her jacket on the ground by the sofa. She used the little scissors to cut Spike's t-shirt off him, as she didn't think she could lift him up far enough to undress him properly without hurting him. Or, indeed, at all, unless she suddenly developed Slayer-strength.

As she peeled the shirt away from the gashes in his side, she winced in sympathy. There were four of them, in parallel rows. They were very deep, and they were full of a stinking slimy substance. She soaked a piece of gauze in distilled water and began to wipe them clean, but she soon realised that there was nowhere near enough cloth in the little first aid kit to allow her to clean them properly. She looked around the crypt for towels or blankets, but there didn't seem to be anything there except the fridge, the sofa and the television.

So she stripped off her t-shirt and tore it into strips, and continued to clean out his wounds. Once they were free of the slime and dirt and blood, she poured a liberal quantity of alcohol over them to disinfect them, as she wasn't sure if vampires could get infections or not. Spike twitched and whimpered, but remained unconscious, and Dawn whispered apologies as she used the rest of her top to bandage him up.

It was only once she had finished that she realised how pale he was, even for a vampire. She opened his fridge, hoping to find a packet of blood, but it was empty except for a single can of beer. She bit her lip, trying to decide whether to leave him here alone and go to Willie's to buy him some blood.

Then the tangy taste of metal filled her mouth, and she touched a finger to her lip to see that she had bitten it so hard that it had bled. She made up her mind. She scratched at the scab that still adorned her palm, and reopened the wound.

Kneeling beside the couch again, she held her hand over Spike's head and allowed the blood to trickle onto his lips. His mouth opened instinctively, and his tongue flicked out to lick his lips clean. Even once they were free of blood, however, his tongue kept fluttering about, and he was making a tiny mewling noise in his throat.

Dawn lowered her hand to his mouth, and gasped as he instantly began to suck on the cut. It was completely different from last night – he was injured and weak and out of control – but it stirred up the same feelings inside her, and she closed her eyes in bliss as he sucked greedily at her hand.

~*~

The glorious taste of blood filled his mouth. He could feel it seeping down his throat, could smell the coppery scent overwhelming him. And he could feel a heartbeat pounding against his lips.

He forced his eyes open, and for a moment it seemed as though they were still closed. Then the grey mist started to clear and he saw a figure beside him, her hand outstretched, feeding him. He couldn't see her properly, but the taste of her blood was too magnificent to forget. "Dawn?" he croaked, pulling away from her hand.

"Shh," Dawn replied, quietly. "You're still weak – you were really badly hurt. You need to feed some more. Damn it," she added, in a louder voice. "The cut's closed up again." She began to scratch at her hand, and the smell of the blood intensified again.

Spike reached up and put his hand over hers. "Stop, love, you'll hurt yourself," he said hoarsely. He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over him and he collapsed back down again.

"Spike!" Dawn gasped, and scratched even harder at her palm, her breath catching from the discomfort.

"Stop," Spike pleaded. "Please, pet. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"But you need blood," Dawn said, crying in frustration. Then her eyes widened slightly as an idea came to her. She leaned over him, tilting her head so that her neck was exposed, and said, "Bite me."

Spike's heart, which had lain dormant in his chest for so many years, began to pound. "Wh-what?" he gasped.

"Bite me," Dawn whispered, her hands trembling but her eyes determined.

Spike shook his head. "I can't, pet..."

"The chip only works when you try to hurt people," Dawn protested. "But you won't be trying to hurt me. I'm letting you do it. Please, Spike, you have to! Look at you, you can't even stand up! I-I don't-" She broke off as her voice cracked, and took a deep breath. "Please. I can't lose you," she finished simply.

Spike shook his head. "That's not the reason, love," he said softly. "It's just that, if I started to feed from you, I don't think I could control myself. You taste so good, and I haven't had anyone in so long... And, like you say, I'm too weak at the moment. If I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself."

Dawn looked into his eyes. "I trust you."

~*~

His heart seemed to catch in his throat. Unbidden, his game face came to the fore, and Spike turned away from her, trying to calm himself enough to force the demon back down inside him. Dawn put one hand on each side of his head and gently turned his face back to look at her.

Not looking away from him or closing her eyes, she leaned in and kissed the ridges on his forehead, and brushed her lips beneath his golden eyes. Then she pressed her mouth against his and tenderly parted his lips with her tongue, sliding it into his mouth past his jagged fangs. Only then did she close her eyes, and not in a gesture of disgust, but simply as a natural continuation of her kiss.

Spike tried desperately to keep from moving or reacting, terrified of hurting her, but when her eyes closed and she deepened the kiss, he couldn't help but follow her lead. With a moan, he buried his hand in her hair and pulled her even closer to him. His tongue probed at her lips, and she sucked it into her mouth, swirling her own tongue around it.

~*~

Dawn's first thought when Spike returned her kiss was, _Ohmigod, my first kiss is with a vampire. Buffy would be so pissed!_ Her second thought was, _And it feels so much better than I ever expected! _Then Spike sucked lightly on her bottom lip, and she was rendered incapable of coherent thought.

They kissed passionately for a few minutes, and then Spike pulled away. His face had reverted back to its human aspect, but there was still a touch of gold in his eyes as he looked at her with longing.

Dawn was still kneeling on the floor, her breathing fast and shallow and her faced flushed. "What's wrong?" she asked, panicking. "Did I hurt you?"

"God no," Spike assured her fervently. "I just didn't think you looked too comfy down there on the filthy floor." He grasped her arm gently and tugged her towards him. She rose and looked down at Spike's body on the couch – there was no room to sit down. She turned back to him with a puzzled expression, and he laughed and pulled her down on top of him. She fell with a squeak, and turned red as she tried to apologise for hurting him, but he just grinned at her and pulled one of her legs over his body so that she was straddling his hips. "Much better," he announced with a satisfied smile, and he pulled her down to meet his lips again.

~*~

Spike sucked and nibbled gently on Dawn's lip, basking in the pleasure it brought her. His ministrations gradually became more forceful as a powerful scent filled his senses without him noticing. Only when the chip in his head gave a sharp twinge did he pull back suddenly, a feeling of dread washing over him. He peered at Dawn, panting, and saw a trickle of blood welling up from her lip. He gasped, "I hurt you!"

Dawn was looking at him in confusion. Spike touched a trembling finger to her bleeding lip and showed it to her, sickened at himself for hurting her. He expected her to react with shock, or horror, or even with a brave smile as she pretended not to mind. But she did none of those things. Instead, she smiled and bent down to suck the blood from his finger, her eyes never leaving his. When she had cleaned all of her blood off him, she pressed her lips to his and gently parted his lips with her tongue.

His eyes widened – the blood was still there, on her tongue! She hadn't swallowed it, she was offering it to him, and at that moment, there was no way he could refuse it. With a whimper of gratitude, he sucked greedily at her tongue and lips, trying to find every last trace of her blood. When the tiny cut on her lip slowed its flow of blood, and he had cleaned her mouth of every drop he could find, he jerked his head away from her and began to stammer out an apology.

To his surprise and horror, Dawn actually rolled her eyes. "Spike, I _want_ you to bite me." She bent closer to his face and kissed his cheek. "I told you already, I trust you. Please, Spike. Bite me." And she tilted her head back, exposing her beautiful, pale, unmarked neck to him.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

With restraint he had never known he possessed, he stopped himself from sinking his fangs straight into her throat. Instead, he planted a gentle kiss on her jaw, and then ran his tongue down her neck along her jugular vein. He could feel it pulsing beneath his mouth and he closed his eyes to try to keep his control.

He knew that, even though she had been ready to let him feed from her, she had still been scared. But now he could feel her collapsing slowly down onto him as her tense muscles relaxed.

He began to let his sharp teeth scrape at her skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to let her get used to the sensation. He was panting from holding himself back, but he knew he would never forgive himself if he hurt her any more than was necessary.

He pressed his lips to her throat and began to suck in time with her pulse. He could feel the heat of her blood rising to just below her skin, and he couldn't wait any longer. As smoothly as possible, he sank his teeth into her flesh. She jerked as they first pierced her neck, but he stroked her hair and back soothingly, and she relaxed back down against him.

He sucked at the puncture wounds he had created, and lapped at the blood as it flowed out. He almost cried out as the first mouthful slid down his throat – the tiny sips that he had tasted before had not prepared him for the sheer power of her blood. It tingled in his mouth and burned as he swallowed it. It was strong and rich and utterly unlike any blood he had ever tasted before, and he groaned in delight as he drank.

He had to struggle to keep control as he drank from her. His demon was roaring its approval inside his head, and urging him to drain her dry. He tried to reason with it on a level it might understand. _If I kill her now, this will be the last time I'll ever get to taste her. If I let her live, I can keep her around and have her whenever I like._ It seemed to work. The demon backed down, and his bloodlust eased.

It still took all his discipline to release her as she began to go limp on top of him. He tried to let her go without hurting her, but she still gasped as his teeth slid from her throat. "Sorry, pet," he murmured, slipping back into his human face and licking the last of the blood off his lips. "Didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," Dawn said, sleepily. "I'm just tired now."

"Lie down here," Spike said, sitting up.

"No, you're hurt, you shouldn't move," Dawn slurred.

Spike smiled. "'s okay, love, I'm just making room for you to lie down too. Come on." He patted the sofa next to him, and Dawn gratefully sank down into his arms and immediately drifted off to sleep.

Spike lay awake, Dawn's blood pounding in his veins like a burst of adrenaline. "I think I'm addicted to you, love," he whispered to her as he kissed her forehead and settled down to watch her sleep.

~*~

Dawn awoke with a crick in her neck. She put a hand up to massage it, then squeaked as a spasm of pain shot through her. It wasn't a crick, she was bleeding!

An arm snaked around her waist, and she squeaked again, louder – more a screamlet than a squeak. "Mornin', pet," Spike's sleepy voice murmured in her ear. The memories of last night came back to her, and she rolled over so sharply that she almost fell off the sofa. Spike chuckled. "Aw, come on Nibblet, I'm not that bad am I?"

Face reddening with embarrassment, Dawn righted herself on the couch and peered at Spike. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "Does your side..." She trailed off when she looked down and saw that he was no longer bandaged. But it wasn't just the bandage that was gone – there was no longer any sign of the wound that had almost killed him last night. "Wow," she gasped. "I want vampire superhealing!"

"This isn't what normally happens, pet," Spike said, an amused tone in his voice. "Normally I'd have been laid up for days with that scratch."

"Then what-"

Spike touched a finger to the puncture wounds on her neck. "This, love. I don't know what it is about you, but your blood..." He trailed off, and took a few deep breaths, trying to control himself. "It's powerful, pet, more powerful than any I've ever had before. Nothing comes close, not Dru, not Slayer, nothing."

He shivered, then closed his eyes, not able to look at the little trail of blood that was trickling down her neck. She was still half-naked, her t-shirt shredded for bandages, and the sight of the blood, so red against her pale flesh, was driving him crazy. She must have reopened the wound by accident in her sleep, but now the smell was filling the dusty crypt, and it was all he could do not to sink his teeth back where they belonged.

When he didn't move for a few long moments, Dawn touched his arm and asked, "Spike, are you okay?" There was no response. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"Clean yourself up," he growled, harshly. His control was almost breaking. But Dawn didn't realise what has going on inside him, couldn't sense the phenomenal effort he was having to exert to reign in the demon. Her face fell and she hurriedly sat up on the couch.

"Are you okay?" she said, her voice laced with panic. "What's wrong?"

His eyes opened, and she got a shock when she saw the golden tinge suffusing through the irises. His voice rasped in an unfamiliar way as he said, "Just feeling hungry. Don't worry, I'll feel better soon." He smiled at her, not cheerfully, as he normally would, but in a sinister way. He had a look on his face that made Dawn's stomach lurch, one of pure predatory desire.

~*~

It should have terrified her, she knew that. But she didn't feel any desire to panic. She had never forgotten that he was a vampire, that he had killed hundreds, probably thousands of people in over a century as a demon, that he would most likely have killed her the first time he saw her, had he not been chipped. She had just never minded.

She loved him. All of him. His vicious, homicidal demon was just as much a part of him as his sweet, sarcastic human side, and she decided when she first met him that she couldn't only love him half the time. It was all or nothing, and she had chosen the all without hesitation.

So instead of cowering or shrieking, as she was sure he had expected her to do, she shoved him down onto the couch, threw her leg over him so that she was straddling his waist, and gave him a vicious smile.

~*~

When she smiled that evil smile, and pushed her hips deliberately against his, he almost came right there and then. He tried to push her off him, tried to roll them over so he was on top, but she slammed him back down beneath her again. The wicked glint in her eye made him stop struggling and lie motionless beneath him. _Oh God_, he thought, gasping. _It's been so long since any woman has done this to me. _At the beginning, soon after she had turned him, Drusilla had been the dominant one of their relationship, but as she had descended further into madness, and Spike had come into his strength, their roles had reversed, and he had looked after her for the rest of their time together. Even when he had been in the wheelchair, the first time he had come to Sunnydale, she hadn't controlled him like this. Bloody Angelus had had to come along and spoil everything.

But now – _Oh God_ – now, Dawn was pinning him to the sofa and moving her hips _so slowly_ against his aching cock, and it didn't even cross his mind that she was a tiny weak human that he could swat aside with a flick of his hand – he _needed_ her. Spike himself was not a submissive man, but his demon craved someone that could control him. To the rest of the world, he was the Big Bad, one of the fiercest vampires sired in the last two centuries, but to the woman he adored, he was love's bitch.

He looked into her eyes and, so low that she could barely hear him, whispered, "Please..."

~*~

Dawn's smirk widened. She had just been guessing, but his plea confirmed her theory – his demon needed this. It was a bully, and bullies only responded to strength. _Of course_, Dawn thought, grinding herself against his straining erection and smiling at the look of ecstasy that crossed his face, _bullies don't usually respond quite _this_ vociferously, but that's just a bonus_.

She bent her head towards his and kissed him violently, biting his lips hard enough to draw blood. At the same time, she began to rock her hips rhythmically against his cock, increasing the pressure as she deepened the kiss. In almost no time at all, Spike was shuddering and whimpering with pleasure. He met her eyes, searching for permission to come. She nodded and gave one final nip at his lip, which sent him over the edge. He howled his release, his hands clenched around her arms, calling her name over and over until it was just an indistinguishable roar.

He collapsed back to the sofa, still whimpering gently in his pleasure. Dawn climbed off him and lay down beside him, stroking his hair. He looked so peaceful now, contrasting sharply with the earlier appearance of his demonic side. It was almost as if they were two people sharing the same body. "I love you both," Dawn whispered to him, and when he looked up at her, she could see that he understood.

~*~

He lay next to her for what seemed like forever, and at the same time, nowhere near long enough. Then the damp patch on his jeans started to grow uncomfortably cold in the morning air, and he stirred. The movement caused her to sit up beside him. "Where're you going?"

He gestured embarrassedly at the stain on the front of his pants. "Got to go clean up, love."

She looked at his crotch, then quickly looked away again, blushing. He snickered. "You just rode me like a rodeo bull and now you're embarrassed by a little mess?"

"Spike!" she squealed. "Two weeks ago, you wouldn't let me say 'ass' in front of you, now you're saying stuff like... that?"

Spike roared with laughter. "Pet, after what we just did, I don't think I will ever be able to tell you off for using bad language ever again." He saw that she was worried by what they had done, and he hastened to reassure her. "Two weeks ago, I was a fool who thought you were still a child. Now, you've proved that you're not. Not just by what we did today, but by what you sacrificed for me last night." He gently brushed his fingers against the puncture marks on her neck. She stiffened at the contact, then her eyes closed and she relaxed, leaning into his touch.

"I love you," she breathed.

Spike moved his hand up to cup the back of her head, and he drew her into a tender kiss. "I love you too, Nibblet."

He pulled her body close to his in a hug, but she pulled away with a squeak after a few moments. "I'm sorry!" she said hurriedly, trying to dispel the hurt look on his face. "But you said you were going to clean yourself up and you never did and you're all... sticky." She giggled. "And now I'm sticky too..."

He snorted with laughter and pulled her against his groin again, purposely rubbing the sticky patch against her naked little tummy. She screamed and squirmed in his grasp, trying desperately to free herself, but she was laughing too much to be able to be able to muster up enough strength to escape. They struggled for a few minutes, both laughing uncontrollably, until they collapsed back down onto the sofa together, worn out.

"Crap, Spike, it's almost eleven!" Dawn said, checking her watch.

"So? It's a Saturday, innit?"

"Yeah, but I told Mom I'd be back by now!"

"You told your mum you were coming over here?" Spike looked at her incredulously.

"No, moron, I told her I'd be over at Janice's house for a sleepover. Duh." Dawn rolled her eyes. "But Mom wanted me back early, cos she needs me to help her paint the kitchen." She hopped up off the sofa and started pulling on her shoes. "Crap, I've no t-shirt!"

"You can borrow one of mine," Spike said, pointing to a cardboard box tucked away in a shadowy corner.

"You have more than one shirt?!" Dawn asked, gasping.

Spike stuck his tongue out at her. "Yes, but only one pair of pants. Urgh," he added, peeling off the sticky garment.

Dawn wrinkled her nose in disgust and giggled. "I'll come over again tonight, and I'll buy you some new ones on the way over. You like purple?" she asked innocently.

Spike growled. "Don't make me rub these in your hair," he warned, holding up the filthy trousers.

Dawn shrieked and scampered out the door, pulling a black t-shirt over her head as she ran. "See you later," she called over her shoulder.

Spike sat back down on the sofa. God, he was pathetic – he missed her already.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"God, Spike, this place is such a dump!"

"Is not!"

"What planet are you living on?" Dawn demanded. "Look at it, it sucks! There's cobwebs everywhere, and it's all broken and mouldy and everything. Not to mention, it's a tomb!"

"Well, yeah, but I _am_ a vampire," Spike pointed out. "I'm _supposed_ to live in a tomb."

"No, you're supposed to _sleep_ in a tomb. Or a coffin, anyway. You're supposed to _live_ in a great big castle."

"Two problems there, pet. One – I'm skint. Two – do you see any bloody great castles around here?" He thought for a second, then added, "Also, I'm claustrophobic."

Dawn giggled. "That's three problems, Monty Python. And what's skint?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Skint, Nibblet, is poor. Hard up. Strapped for cash. I thought you spoke English?"

"That's not English, that's just something they say in England."

"Think very carefully about what you've just said, pet."

Dawn stuck her tongue out at him. "Are you really... skint?" She pronounced the word with distaste. "I thought you just enjoyed pestering Buffy to give you money – I know how much you like annoying her."

"That is a bonus," Spike agreed. "But I am also rather broke at the moment. Have been for years. Never really needed cash before this bloody chip. I had plenty of ways of getting anything I needed, or wanted, without the inconvenience of money." He paused, a dreamy look on his face as he remembered the glory days. "I did have money when I was a human, o' course. Or I was going to have, anyway. Mother said she had three hundred pounds in a trust fund for when I turned twenty five. Never got a chance to get it though." He looked wistful. "Could have used it, really. I could buy a new telly with it."

Dawn looked at him, a thoughtful look on her face. "Where was it?" she asked.

"Where was what? The telly?"

Dawn smacked his head. "No, retard, the money! Why didn't you ever get it?"

"Cos I met Drusilla before I turned twenty five, and I didn't go back to London for years after that. 'sides, I never needed it. I told you, demons don't need money. Anyway, you'd best be running along. Big Sis'll be getting worried soon." He hopped up off the couch and grabbed Dawn's hands, pulling her reluctantly to her feet. She glared at him, and he grinned back at her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug and squeezing her butt.

"Oh, that's a _great_ way to make me want to leave," Dawn commented sarcastically, as she stood up on tip toe to give him a long moist kiss. When they broke off several minutes later, Dawn was panting, and even Spike, who didn't strictly need to respire, was breathing heavily. "So yeah, going," Dawn said, not moving.

"You should. Go, I mean," Spike agreed, his hands still gripping her arms.

~*~

Twenty minutes of passionate kissing later, they left the crypt and walked out of the cemetery together. "I still think this is just an excuse for more kissage," Dawn teased.

"I told you, there are too many nasty monsters in this town for you to be wandering about on your own," Spike said, then added, "Mind you, my motives may not be _entirely_ innocent." He slapped her on the bum, and smirked at her when she squeaked.

Needless to say, it was getting quite late when Dawn got home. She was alone, as Spike hadn't wanted to see the 'bloody Slayer on an empty stomach', so Buffy gave her the inevitable lecture about not dawdling, and not walking around on her own after dark. Dawn had sat mutely through the tirade, not wanting to explain that she had not in fact been alone. She didn't think the details of who she had spent the afternoon would go down too well, so she had kept quiet.

When Buffy eventually wound up the lecture and told Dawn to do her homework, she laid out her books on the table in the dining room and pretended to work for the four and a half minutes she knew it took Buffy to stop paying attention to her. Then she went back in to the kitchen, where Anya was helping Joyce make snacks for the rest of the gang, who were in the sitting room discussing the latest demon threat.

"Anya?" Dawn said. "Can I talk to you?"

"Please don't. I'm busy," Anya said in her usual blunt way.

"I wanted to ask you about money."

"Oh!" Anya said with more enthusiasm. "I can talk about money. I enjoy money. What would like to talk about?"

"What do you know about banks and interest and inheritance?"

"Oh, almost everything," Anya assured her. "At first I didn't like the idea of banks, because I wanted to keep my money for myself. But then Xander explained that the bank would pay me to store my money for me, which is called deferred gratification. Personally, I prefer instantaneous gratification, which Xander has also been demonstrat-"

"What's this all about, honey?" Joyce asked hastily, cutting Anya off before she could go into details on her and Xander's sex life. Again. "Is it for school?"

"Just for a friend," Dawn said, not wanting to lie outright, but not really wanting to tell her mother that she was trying to help an evil vampire.

"That's nice," Joyce said, distracted by the oven's timer.

"Maybe we could go in the dining room?" Dawn asked Anya.

~*~

"Spike, it's me," Dawn called as she pushed open the door of Spike's crypt.

The top of one of the sarcophagi slid back and Spike climbed out of it, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "I hate sleeping in those things. Always dream I've been buried again. _And_ my back's cramping up." He shuddered and sat down on his moth-eaten sofa.

Dawn kissed him tenderly on the forehead and perched beside him on the arm of the chair, rubbing his neck until he started to relax. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck from behind, nuzzling his neck. "I've got something that might make you feel better," she murmured in his ear.

"Oh really?" Spike said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. Then his neck gave another twinge and he winced. "Is it a bed? Cos I'd kill for a bed, if I didn't have this bloody chip."

"It's better than a bed," Dawn said happily, hopping up from the sofa and fishing in her school bag. She dug out a piece of paper and handed it to him.

He peered at it with sleepy eyes, and said, "What's this?"

"A bank account statement. It tells you how much money you have."

"That's a very long number at the bottom there. Zero is normally quite a bit smaller than that."

"This is the money your mother left you," Dawn said with a proud smile.

Spike blinked at the page, then at her, then at the page again. Then his jaw dropped. "A hundred thousand dollars?"

"No, that's in English money. Pounds. It's more like a hundred and forty thousand dollars." Dawn's smile was so broad that her head seemed split in two. She laughed at Spike's incredulous expression and explained. "I asked Anya to help me. She explained about compound interest. It turns out that when you leave three hundred pounds for a hundred years at five percent compound interest, it gets so you need a better calculator really quickly. So we phoned up the banks in England and pretended to be your great grandkids researching our family tree, and we found your account, and Anya got them to transfer us the money." She gestured at the figure on the page. "So that's yours now. Oh, and here's a credit card."

"What am I supposed to do with..." he checked the figure again. "More than a hundred and forty thousand dollars?"

"Well, you could buy, like, a hundred and forty thousand bags of Cheez Nips, or blood for about seventy five years. But I thought you might start by getting a nicer apartment. Cos, like I said the other day, this place really sucks."

Spike thought for a second, then said, "Good plan, pet. But _first_, I'm putting three hundred dollars into a savings account!"


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Dawn jumped as a pair of cold hands slithered around her waist, then relaxed into the figure's arms, wiggling her butt against his crotch. "Hello Spike," she purred.

"Might not have been me, pet," Spike replied indignantly. "Plenty of nasties about tonight – you _are _in a cemetery."

"How many demons would be _this _happy to see me?" Dawn said with an impish grin, grinding herself against the stiff bulge in his jeans.

"How 'bout all of them, love?" Spike growled lasciviously in her ear. "In case you hadn't noticed, you look good enough to eat. Literally."

Dawn blushed slightly, pleased with the compliment, then said, "Fine, well, how many demons would hug me, rather than grabbing me and ripping my throat out?"

Spike considered this for a moment, the conceded. "Fair point, pet. So next time I should grab you and bite you?"

Dawn writhed against him, arching her back and baring her neck for him. "Oh, yes please!"

"You're incorrigible," Spike said, trying to suppress his laughter. "Come on, I've got something I want to show you."

~*~

"What d'you think?" Spike asked nervously, gesturing around at the sparse room. "I know it's a bit small, but-"

"It's bigger than the crypt was," Dawn cut in, reassuringly. "And it's got a microwave, and a fridge. Ooh, and a bed!" She threw herself onto the mattress and bounced happily. "_So_ much better than the damn sofa!" she said with feeling.

Spike smiled, relieved. "So you like it then?"

"It's perfect, Spike."

"It is, isn't it," Spike agreed. "There's even a late-night butcher's down the road where I can get blood."

"And the cemetery's pretty much your garden, which is kinda perfect." She paused. "This seems a little _too_ good. Did you have to join some freaky vampire cult to get this place? Or kill someone? Or kill someone _in_ a freaky vampire cult? Though I suppose that last one'd actually be good thing," she added reflectively.

"No," Spike chuckled. "Don't worry, I didn't have to kill anyone. Although the last tenant _did_ die. But that wasn't my fault!" he added hastily. "Honestly! He was the night watchman for the graveyard!"

"Okay, then it's kind of inevitable that he died," Dawn conceded. "So how much did this place cost?"

Spike looked sheepishly at his boots. "Nothing," he admitted. "I could have afforded it even without the money you got for me."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "How come?"

"It's the night watchman's cottage, and I'm the new night watchman. The guy who showed me around said he usually hired old men who want somewhere quiet to retire to after their wives die, somewhere they can keep an eye on their graves."

Dawn snorted. "In Sunnydale?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, he said he'd never known any town with a higher turnover of cemetery workers," Spike agreed, grinning. "Hence my being hired. He said he didn't believe in all that mystical mumbo jumbo, but there was obviously something strange going on, so he wanted to hire someone that would be able to cope with it."

"And you never even thought to look for something like this before?" Dawn demanded.

"Sorry," Spike said meekly.

Dawn glared at him momentarily, then hugged him around the waist from her perch on the bed. "It's too nice here – I can't stay mad at you. So did he think you had a wife in the graveyard that you wanted to watch over too?"

"Something like that," Spike said, grinning. When he saw Dawn's indignant look, he added, "Well, I couldn't very well tell him the truth, now could I? 'Yes, I want to be near the cemetery so I can watch over my fellow vampires, and kill them again if they get out of hand.' That would have gone over _really_ well." Dawn snickered.

Spike let his eyes drift over her body and then at the bed, suggestively. "Fancy christening the place, Nibblet?" he purred.

Dawn licked her lip seductively and lay back on the covers, smiling. She tilted her head to one side, exposing the delicious curve of her throat. Spike bent down to crawl along the bed towards her, only to be interrupted by her yelp of "Crap! What time is it?"

Spike checked his alarm clock and replied with a grumble, "Nearly eight o'clock. Why does it matter?"

"It matters cos I'm supposed to meet Buffy at the bus station at quarter past eight, that's why," Dawn said, scrambling off the bed.

"In't that a bit of a funny place to meet big sis, pet?"

"That's kind of what I came over to tell you," Dawn said guiltily. "We're going to visit Dad in L.A. for my mid-term break."

Spike's face fell. "For how long?"

"I don't know yet – we haven't been able to get on to Dad to ask if he has any plans, so we don't know how long we can stay." She saw the disappointed look on his face, and hugged him. "I'm sorry. I just haven't seen Dad in ages. I'll try to get away after a few days, I promise."

Spike pouted exaggeratedly. "But how will ever survive without my tasty Little Bit?" He lunged at her, flashing his fangs, and smirked when she shrieked and leaped away from him. He switched back to his human visage and hugged her affectionately. "Want me to walk you to the station?" _Please say no,_ he pleaded silently._ I don't want to run the risk of a Slayer encounter when you have healing bite marks on your neck._

"Don't worry, I won't make you go anywhere near Buffy," Dawn said, grinning, as though reading his mind. "I better go though." She leaned up and kissed him demurely on the cheek, then turned towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back to him. "If I'm not going to see you for days, I want a better goodbye than that."

~*~

"Slayer?"

"I'm a bit busy here!" The vampire she was fighting exploded, and Spike stepped through the cloud of dust, a stake in his hand and a worried expression on his face. "What the hell do you want, Spike?"

She expected him to gripe about not receiving any thanks for helping her, but instead he simply asked, "Is the Nibblet okay?"

"What?"

"Dawn. Is she okay?"

Buffy glared at him. "I thought I told you to stay away from her, Spike."

"I just want to know how she is, Slayer. She hasn't answered her phone in days. I'm… I just want to know if she's okay."

Buffy was unnerved to see Spike so distressed, but she was more unnerved by his fixation with her sister. "Dawn's still in L.A. with Dad," she said, shortly. "And when she gets back, you are not to go near her. I don't want to see you with her ever again, and you're to give up on this damn obsession."

"Why are you back if she's still in L.A.?" Spike growled at her.

"Haven't you heard a word I've said?!" Buffy yelled at him. "Stop talking about her, Spike! In fact, stop thinking about her altogether!"

"I'm worried about her, even if you're not!" Spike roared back.

"There's nothing to be worried about! I'm here because I never went to L.A. in the first place. There's a rogue demon on the loose, and that comes before family. She's probably having such a good time with Dad that she can't be bothered to call her vampire stalker. Personally, I don't think that's something to worry about, I think it's a good sign!"

"So she definitely got to your Dad's place alright?" Spike asked tensely.

"Of course she did!" Buffy hesitated. "Well, I assume so. She called me on her cell to let me know she was getting on the bus."

Spike stared at her, frozen. "You didn't even go to the bus station? What kind of an idiot are you, Slayer?" He spun around and strode quickly away. Buffy rolled her eyes. _Vampires_, she thought dismissively. _Always making a big drama out of everything._

~*~

"Help me!"

Blue-clad orderlies and nurses scurried to help the tall blonde man holding the bleeding girl in his arms. He was reluctant to let her go, and hovered close to her bed as the doctors examined her. When they tried to wheel the bed towards the elevator, he shouted, "Where are you taking her? What's wrong with her?"

A nurse took his arm gently and pulled him out of the way. "It's alright, sir, they're bringing her up to the ER to close her wounds. You can go up to her when they're finished, but if you'll just come with me for the moment, I need to ask you a few questions." She steered him over to the waiting room, with him looking over his shoulder after her departing figure all the way. "Now, sir," she continued when they were sitting. "Do you know her name?"

"D-Dawn," he whispered. "Dawn Summers."

"Okay," she said, making a note on her clipboard. "And your own name, sir?"

"Sp- William," he corrected.

"Okay, William. Now, can you tell me what happened?"

He shook his head. "I-I don't know… I found her… She was in the graveyard… She was supposed to be in L.A…"

"Is that where she lives?"

"No, she lives on Revello… But she was supposed to be visiting her Dad in L.A…"

"Are you family, William?"

"No, I'm… I'm a friend… Please, is she going to be alright?"

"We'll have to wait for the doctors to tell us how she's doing. Do you have a contact number for a family member?"

"I-I don't know… Her mum, maybe… I want to see her. Please, I want to see her."

"You'll just have to let the doctors work on her for the moment, William. They're trying to help her, but you have to let them. Now, can you write down a phone number from her mother – what's her name?"

"Joyce," he said, taking the clipboard and scribbling a number. "Her mum's name is Joyce. Please, I have to go soon – please can I see her now?"

The nurse saw one of the doctors that had accompanied the girl upstairs coming off the elevator, and she said, "I'll just go and check. Stay here." She came back a few moments later, and nodded. "Doctor Roberts says you can go up now. But she is sleeping at the moment – are you sure you wouldn't rather come back later?"

He glanced out the window, where the sky was showing signs of the approaching sunrise, and shook his head. "I have to go soon. I just want to see that she's okay." He followed her upstairs and rushed to the girl's bedside as soon as they entered the ward. He leaned over the bed, examining the bandages that were covering her wounds and gently stroking her cheek.

The nurse stayed at the door of the ward with the doctor, watching the unlikely pair. "She's a bit young for him, isn't she?" she whispered.

The doctor rolled his eyes. "You see all sorts in this job. Especially in this place. Homeless, are they?"

"He says no, that she was abducted." The nurse's voice was tinged with scepticism.

The man came over to them. "Is… Will she be alright?" he asked, in a strained voice. The nurse was alarmed to see a glint of gold in his eye, but when she looked again, she thought she must have imagined it.

"Her injuries are severe, but they seem to have missed all the major organs," the doctor replied. "We have of course stitched up her wounds, but they will most likely leave scars, due to the infection."

The man ran his hand through his hair, a distressed look on his face. "But she'll be okay?"

"Yes, barring complications she should make a full recovery."

"Okay. Okay," he said, turning to leave. He paused there, as though undecided, then turned back and added, "You will look after her, won't you?"

"Of course, sir. We've contacted her family, they should be here shortly."

He nodded, still reluctant to leave. "I'll be back this evening," he promised, but the nurse got the feeling that he wasn't talking to either of them.

~*~

"Dawnie, say something, please," Buffy begged, shaking her sister's shoulder, but Dawn remained motionless in the hospital bed, staring into the distance. Buffy sank to her chair in frustration.

"S-still nothing?" Giles asked hesitantly as he entered with two plastic cups of coffee.

Buffy shook her head. "I don't get it. I mean, I know she was attacked, but she's been hurt before. It's kind of inevitable, as the sister of the Slayer."

"But she wasn't just attacked this time, Buffy," Giles said gently. "She was actually injured. You heard what the doctors said – those cuts will leave scars. And she was dehydrated, so they may have kept her for days. We don't know when she was taken. Perhaps you should contact your father and see when she left L.A."

Buffy gaped at him, the blood draining from her face and sudden horror in her eyes. "Oh God," she gasped. "Oh God… Spike told me he hadn't heard from her since she left… She must have been taken the day I dropped her to the bus station… God, this is all my fault… I was supposed to go with her… If I had gone with her like I was supposed to, this would never have happened, I could have killed whatever attacked her, and everything would have been alright…"

Giles grabbed Buffy by the arms and said forcefully, "You could never have predicted this, Buffy. This is not your fault, you can't protect her constantly. You had to find Adam – that was our priority. You couldn't have known that this would happen."

Buffy fought to contain her emotions, but her shoulders occasionally shook with the sobs that escaped. Then she stiffened. "No, you're right," she hissed. "It's _not_ my fault. The nurse said she was found in a graveyard. She was visiting Spike."

"A-are you sure?"

"She was found in a graveyard, Giles! Why else would she be there?" Buffy demanded. "No, this is all Spike's fault. I will kill him."

~*~

"You've got another visitor, Dawn," the nurse announced cheerfully from the doorway. Dawn continued to lie unresponsive in the bed. Buffy, however, jumped to her feet when she saw the figure behind the nurse.

"Get out," she snarled. "Get away from her, Spike."

Spike's expression, which had been one of worry and fear as he looked at Dawn, shifted to cold anger. "I was just checking on the Nibblet."

"You're not doing anything to Dawn ever again."

The nurse looked from one to the other, worried. "Miss Summers, this is the gentleman that found your sister. He-"

"_He_ is the reason that she was hurt in the first place!" Buffy snapped.

"I was the one who found her! I was the one that brought her here! I was the one that bloody saved her!"

"If she hadn't been on her way to see you she wouldn't need to be here in the first place!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Spike demanded.

"What does it sound like?" Buffy retorted, viciously. "It means she was in the cemetery at night, that's what it means. It means she was on her way to see you. It means she got attacked by a fucking monster in the fucking cemetery _because of you_!"

Spike stood frozen in the door for a fraction of a second, then growled, "If you think it was a monster that did this, then your Slayer-senses need a tune-up." He turned and strode angrily away down the corridor.

"Good riddance!" Buffy called after him, then turned back to her sister.

Giles, however, hurried after Spike. When he got within earshot, he asked, "What did you mean, 'not a monster'?"

"Little Bit was attacked by humans," Spike told him. "Two of 'em. I can still smell 'em on her."

"Humans did this to her?" Giles repeated, aghast. "Are you sure? It couldn't have been vampires?"

"I told you, Watcher, the things that did this to her were human. And they will pay for ever touching her." Spike's voice sounded slightly muffled, as though he was having trouble moving the muscles of his face. When he stepped forward, a beam of light fell on his face, reflecting off golden eyes and illuminating the contours of his game face.

"You really care about her, don't you?" Giles asked in surprise.

"More than you can ever imagine," Spike snapped, forcing his features to resume their normal form. He pushed past Giles and walked out the hospital doors, leaving Giles staring after him in shock. _Another vampire in love with a Summers girl, _he thought, shaking his head. _Must be something in the blood_.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Dawn lay in her bed, staring in front of her with her unbandaged eye, but paying no attention to any of the objects in her line of sight. Even when her window slid open and a familiar figure climbed through it, she did no more than glance briefly at him before allowing her gaze to drift out of focus again.

Spike walked over to her bed and crouched beside it. "Come with me, pet," he said quietly, his hand on her arm. "I've got something I want you to see." When she didn't react, he leaned forward, kissed her gently on the cheek, and lifted her into his arms. Cradling her carefully to his chest with one arm, he climbed swiftly down the roof which sloped down from her window, then jumped off. He landed silently on the grassy lawn, and strode off, still holding her, towards the cemetery.

When they got to the graveyard, Dawn began to tremble violently. Spike stroked her hair with his free hand, and whispered, "I know, Dawn, I know you don't want to go here. But I need to show you something. I promise it'll make you feel better. And I'm here with you. Nothing's going to hurt you. Not here, or anywhere, I promise." She nodded almost imperceptibly, but continued to quake in his arms.

Spike made his way to the crypt that he had lived in briefly after leaving Giles' apartment, and pushed open the door. He could feel Dawn's pulse racing, could almost taste her terror, and he felt sick. He hated causing her so much pain and horror, especially after all she had just been through, but she was nothing more than a wreck at the moment. He had to help her, had to fix her. Otherwise, what use was he?

He placed her carefully onto the lid of the sarcophagus and stood in front of her, holding her face in his hands so that she was looking at him. "Dawn, I know this is scary, but you have to trust me. This is going to help you, I promise." He kissed her lightly, then released her and turned to kick open a trapdoor he had only found earlier that day. "I'm going to bring you down here, okay Nibblet?" He looked at her, and his stomach gave a horrible twist to see the look of utter panic on her face. His suspicions were confirmed – she had already known about the crypt's lower level before this.

He leaped back to her side just in time to catch her as she collapsed from the sarcophagus. She huddled in a ball in his arms, whispering, "No, no, no…" over and over again.

He wanted to comfort her; it broke his heart not to. But he knew that nothing he could say could possibly fix things. The only thing he could do to help was to carry on with his plan. He scooped her up into his arms once more and carried her down the ladder. Her mantra of "No, no" grew even more frantic as they descended into the gloom below, but she seemed to terrified to move.

"It's okay, Nibblet," he murmured into her ear as he lowered her to the ground and lit one of the candles he had left by the ladder earlier. The dim light barely illuminated the darkness around them, but it did show the outline of two figures standing a few metres from them. He heard Dawn's heartbeat, which had already been pounding in fear, increase in speed until the heartbeats were barely discernible from each other. He knelt down beside her again, and said quietly, "You recognise these people?" There was the tiniest of nods from Dawn. "They hurt you?" Another nod.

He paused, looking at her critically, trying to determine if she was able for what he had planned next. Her fear was tangible, but he could sense an edge of fury underneath. She would be able to handle it. She was stronger than everyone gave her credit for.

He murmured, "What would you like me to do to them?"

Her breath caught, but she didn't pause before replying, "Kill them." It was said quietly, but, in the darkness and stillness of the cellar, it carried to the ears of the two men. Panic radiated from them, and Spike basked in it. They deserved an eternity of pain and suffering for what they had done to his Little Bit. He pulled a sheathed knife from his pocket and slid it from its casing. He allowed his demon visage to come to the fore as he tilted it slightly so that the candle light glinted off it, and savoured their terror.

"Unfortunately I'm not going to be able to perform that very enjoyable service for you, due to the damn chip." The two men relaxed slightly, and Spike's demon roared within him – they did not get to feel relief ever again. He offered the knife to Dawn, handle first, and whispered, "You'll have to do it."

~*~

Dawn stared at the shimmering blade in Spike's hand, a flurry of thoughts running through her head. She was almost paralysed by her proximity to the two men who had attacked her. She had never imagined seeing them again, and she was having to exert enormous efforts not to simply curl up into a ball and lie whimpering on the dirt floor, as she had done so many times in the week they had kept her here as their 'guest'.

But her fear was being rapidly overwhelmed by the cloud of fury rising inside her, a fury that she had not realised she felt during the days she had lain in bed, unable to rouse herself from the continuous replay of the awful week's events. But now the anger was filling her, and she wanted to hurt the men, hurt them as they had hurt her.

She took the knife from Spike and slowly rose to her feet, looking at her two attackers. They were chained to posts, the same posts that she had been chained to, and she smiled at their terrified expressions. She held the knife to the older one's face, just above his eye, and carefully cut downwards, mirroring the first wound he had given her. The knife was sharp, and it slid through his skin easily, the blood welling up behind its point as though painted on. His whimpers, muffled by the gag, only made her smile wider.

She cut his top from him, just as he had done to her, and began to jab the tip of the knife into his flesh over and over, leaving bleeding dots spaced neatly across his chest. Then she dug the blade into his stomach, so that it sunk almost an inch into his fat, hairy belly, and twisted the handle sharply. When she pulled it out again, she stepped back and watched his tears falling with a satisfied smile. She raised the knife to his face again, causing him to flinch. But instead of cutting him, she traced the line of his tears with the point, from his jaw up the curve of his fat cheek, until it was resting on his lower eyelid.

He stared at her, his eyes pleading, not daring to move for fear of the knife. Dawn leaned close to him, keeping her hand steady, and said calmly, "Not so much fun this way round, is it?" She removed the knife and pulled away from him, watching as he sagged with relief. Then she slashed the knife across his throat, the sharp blade slicing effortlessly through skin, muscle and cartilage. A fountain of blood gushed from his neck, and he collapsed limply against the chains, his face contorted in a bulging-eyed rictus.

Then a hand fastened around her throat and she was smashed against a post. She tried to slice at her attacker, but he was behind her and she couldn't manoeuvre the knife into a useful position. It was harder to breathe now. The room seemed to be growing dimmer. And she could hear a voice in her ear hissing, "You fucking slut, you killed him! We were just having fun, showing you a good time, and you and your psycho friend come along and fucking kill him? You are going to pay. The last week will seem like a fucking picnic after what I'm going to do to you now. You're going to be fucking _begging_ me to kill you soon!"

~*~

He lunged at the man who was pinning Dawn to the ground and choking her, and grabbed him viciously around the throat. He didn't allow himself to stop – he knew that, if he paused, the thought of the pain from his chip would prevent him from doing what he had to do to protect his Dawn. With a savage snarl, he dug his fingers into the soft skin behind the man's windpipe and, in one vicious movement, he clenched his fist and twisted it sharply. With a sickeningly moist crunching noise, the man's throat split open, and his whole body jerked convulsively a few times before falling limply to the floor.

Still without pausing, Spike stumbled across to Dawn, scooped her up into his arms and climbed up the ladder. He placed Dawn gently on the ground outside the crypt and examined her carefully. She seemed to be mostly unharmed, apart from a livid bruise blossoming on her neck. "Spike?" she whispered hoarsely.

"I'm here, Nibblet," Spike replied. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling shakily up at him. "A bit, you know, wobbly. And my throat hurts. But I feel way better. Which is weird, isn't it? I mean, shouldn't I feel terrible? I just watched you kill someone. _I _just killed someone. Isn't that supposed to make me feel, like, bad or something?" She broke off her babbling and, with a worried look in her eyes, said, "Does that mean I don't have a soul?

Spike pushed himself up to a sitting position and pulled her close to him. He said seriously, "Nibblet, I promise you – you have a soul. Trust me, I'm a vampire – we can tell."

Dawn gave a little giggle, and it had a slightly hysterical note to it. "'Trust me, I'm a vampire'," she echoed, starting to shake. "Th-that's funny – 'trust me, I'm a v… a vam…" She broke off, shivering too hard to speak.

Spike wrapped both his arms around her and pulled her to his chest in a tight, reassuring hug. "It's okay, Dawn, it's okay. It's just the adrenaline that's making you shaky. You'll be alright." He rocked gently with her, repeating soothingly, "It's okay, pet, it's all okay now."

It wasn't until she had stopped sobbing that he realised that his chip no longer hurt – that it hadn't hurt since he had stopped her attacker from ever hurting her again. _So it seems that the rules don't exactly apply when it comes to Dawn_, he thought as he cradled her to him._ Well, I suspected as much already._ He remembered the powerful taste of her blood when she had forced him to drink from her, that night he had been attacked, and the way it had healed his wounds almost overnight. He would never tell her, for he knew it would only worry her, but he knew there was something supernatural about his Dawn – she was more than just an ordinary mortal girl. _And I wouldn't have it any other way._


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"Wow!" Janice exclaimed when she saw Dawn. "Holy Hell, that is a massive scar!"

Dawn flushed and put her hand self-consciously to her face. The five-inch cut was only one of the wounds she still bore from her week spent in the basement of the crypt, but it was the only one visible in day-to-day life, and she still hadn't got used to people's reactions to it. It was a very noticeable addition to her face - it didn't hurt anymore, unless she scratched it by accident, but it was still healing, and so was a vivid red line down the right side of her face. It stretched from just above her right eye, down over her eyelid and cheek and intersected her lip to end just above her chin.

"Yeah," she mumbled, then attempted to change the subject. "So, anything interesting happen while I was out?" This would normally have provoked a torrent of news from her gossipy friend, but today the only thing that Janice seemed to be interested in was Dawn.

"Are you kidding me?!" she squealed. "All anyone's been talking about is you! Is it true that you were sold for the white slave trade?" she whispered conspiratorially. "That's what Marcy said, and her father is a cop."

"What? No!"

"Well, were you homeless, then? Brad's mom is a nurse, and he says that's what happened."

"No!" Dawn repeated, astonished. "I wasn't homeless, or sold as a slave, or anything! I just… had an accident."

Janice rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Dawn. If you want to pull that crap with everyone else, that's fine, but I'm your best friend! I know when you're lying! Now spill."

Dawn looked around uneasily. They were standing by her locker in the school hallway, and there were far too many people passing by within earshot for her to be comfortable telling her story. "Not here," she said quietly. "Let's go for a walk."

They went down to the park and sat on the swings. Janice listened in rapt fascination as Dawn briefly described how the two men had attacked her at the bus station, how she had woken up chained by her neck to a pillar in a pitch-dark room, how they had come a few hours later, how she had finally escaped when they had forgotten to lock the chain to her collar properly, how she had emerged in the cemetery and passed out. She glossed over what the two men had actually done to her – she hadn't spoken to anyone about that yet, not even Spike. Although he had seemed to know anyway.

Janice didn't seem to notice her omission. "So the whole time, you were in, like, a tomb or something? Eurgh!"

"One of the old crypts, yeah," Dawn replied quietly.

"So what happened then?" Janice asked, fascinated. Dawn was uncomfortable by her friend's undivided attention, but she knew that, unless she answered Janice's questions now, she would be plaguing her for more details for days, and not always in secluded spots such as the one they were currently in.

"I don't know," she said. "I woke up in the hospital, and Mom and Buffy were there."

"But how'd you get there?" Janice persisted. "I mean, how come they didn't come back and find you lying in the graveyard and catch you again?"

"I don't know," Dawn repeated. "Buffy wouldn't say. I think Spike found me."

"Who's Spike?"

"He's… a friend. Buffy doesn't like him."

"You have a friend called _Spike_?" Janice asked in disbelief. "Is he, like, in a motorcycle gang or something? Oh, God, he's a big hairy biker guy, isn't he? That's why Buffy doesn't like him! Is he really old? I bet he's like, thirty or something!"

"Janice!" Dawn interjected again, insulted. "He's not a biker! He's not any of those things!" She paused in thought for a moment, then added, "Well, actually, he does have a motorbike. And he is a bit older than me…" _And the prize for the biggest understatement of the year goes to…_ "But he's definitely not a big hairy biker!" she finished, lamely.

"Well, aren't we defensive?" Janice teased. "Have you got a thing for him?" When Dawn didn't instantly deny this accusation, Janice gasped. "Oh my God! You do! So who is he? How do you know him? What's he like? And how old _is_ he, actually?"

"I have no idea how old he is," Dawn said, amused by the flood of questions but unsure how to answer them. "I met him when he was staying with Giles – that's Buffy's old school librarian. She's still friends with him."

"So he's like, teacher-old?" Janice asked with a grimace.

"Giles is, but Spike's not," Dawn said, accurately but not entirely truthfully. "They're both British. I don't think Giles likes Spike too much though."

"British, huh? That's a pretty sexy accent," Janice said, dreamily. "Oh! You should bring him to the Bronze this weekend!"

"I don't think he likes the sort of music they play there," Dawn said hastily. "He's more into punk sort of stuff."

Janice rummaged in her rucksack for a moment, then pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and held it out triumphantly. "There's a punk cover band playing there on Friday night! Look, it says they'll be playing The Clash and all that sort of crap. It's a sign – you _have_ to bring him!"

Dawn tried to protest, but Janice had turned away and was walking back towards school, studiously ignoring her objections. Dawn sighed and hurried to catch up with her.

~*~

"Tell me again why I agreed to this," Spike groaned as he rummaged through the cardboard box that served as his wardrobe, looking for a clean t-shirt. Pale arms snaked around his bare waist and played with the button of his jeans. "Oh yeah," he purred. "Now I remember."

He turned around and pushed Dawn to the bed, bending over her to suck gently on the point where her neck met her shoulder. He slid his leg between hers and pressed it forward until it was flush against the crotch of her thin panties. Even through the heavy denim, he could feel the heat radiating from her. "Or we could just stay in tonight," he murmured, as he rubbed his thigh firmly against her.

His eyes flew open in surprise when she grabbed his hair, pulling his mouth from her neck, and glared sternly at him. "You're just doing this to distract me, so we don't have to go to the Bronze," she said accusingly.

"Not _just_ to distract you," Spike protested, trying to keep the arousal from his voice – his demon was roaring its approval at her treatment of him.

Noticing his obvious response, Dawn grinned and rubbed her hips against his. "Be good," she murmured. "And I shall reward you later." She pushed him off her. "Now, finish getting dressed." She pulled a small mirror out of her school bag and began to cover her scar with a heavy layer of make up.

Spike put his hand over hers, stopping her. "What are you doing, pet?"

Dawn looked at the floor. "Don't want people looking at me," she whispered.

Spike put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to his. "Look at me." She continued to avert her eyes, and he repeated more firmly, "_Look at me._" Slowly, she raised her eyes to his, and was taken aback to see him looking at her scar with approval. "Nibblet, this scar is one of the sexiest things about you. You went through something terrible, but _you survived_. You got revenge. Don't try to hide it. It makes you look almost as strong as you really are inside. Anyway," he added in a lighter tone. "Guys like scars. Gives you something to look at."

Dawn gave him a watery smile. "You're a pig," she said weakly.

"True," Spike agreed cheerfully. "But you love me anyway, don'tcha?"

"Ye-es," Dawn said, feigning reluctance, then smiled warmly. "Thanks, Spike." She hugged him tight.

He savoured the hug for a few moments, then extracted himself gently. He reached under the bed and slid a parcel out from the dark recesses below. "Got this for you," he said sheepishly.

Dawn opened the package, curious, and stared at its contents – black jeans and a blood-red top with a tight bodice and flowing sleeves. "They're beautiful!" she gasped.

"Thought you might need a little something to make you feel special tonight," he said, embarrassed.

She threw her arms around him in a hug, then quickly donned the new outfit. She stood before him and twirled. "How do I look?" she asked, peering down at herself. "I wish you had a mirror."

Spike grinned. "Your wish is my command, my lady." He slid another package from under the bed and unwrapped it to reveal a full length looking glass. He propped it up in front of her, then said, "Not that you need a mirror – you always look lovely." He had to admit, though – she did look fantastic in the new clothes. The pants were tight and showed off her slim curves perfectly, and the top was… just right. It hugged her waist, draped over her arms, and accentuated her breasts to perfection.

He slid around behind her and peered over her shoulder at her lone reflection in the mirror. "Good enough to eat," he growled, slipping into game face and tracing his fangs over the pulse point in her throat. She took a gasping breath as he slid his fangs into her neck, and let out a tiny moan of pleasure. He sucked gently at the trickle of blood that flowed from the cut, but he had not bitten her too deeply – he didn't intend to feed from her, he just wanted to mark her. "You are mine," he whispered possessively in her ear, and from the excited flutter of her pulse, he knew she understood.


	11. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Terribly sorry it's taken so long to get these chapters uploaded – I had huge trouble getting them written. I have the next few after these planned, but I just couldn't get these to work properly. Hope it was worth the wait!**

Chapter Ten

As they walked through the crowded streets towards the Bronze, Dawn's new outfit drew a great many appreciative stares. Spike lazily draped his arm across her shoulders, smirking inwardly when a number of the lustful gazes turned to angry glances in his direction. All thoughts of anyone but Dawn were soon driven from his mind, however, when she tensed up and began to tremble almost imperceptibly.

"What's wrong, pet?" he whispered, stroking her arm soothingly.

"He's looking at me like _they_ did…" Dawn quavered, jerking her head towards one of the gawkers. Spike inspected the man briefly – he looked like a nasty specimen, and the look he was giving Dawn was one of pure chauvinistic pleasure.

His demon craved to rip the man's throat out, as he had done to Dawn's last attacker, but Spike controlled his bloodlust. "You don't have to take that, love," he murmured into her ear. "You're strong, and he is weak and pathetic. Show him."

Her trembling slowed as she pulled herself together. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw tightened, her muscles tensed and her general demeanour changed almost instantly from prey to predator. Slowly, she walked past the man, encouraging him to follow with a enticing sway. Spike, who knew her movements well, could see the control in it, but to a stranger, it must have looked nothing but inviting. The man followed her into a dark alley, a hungry look in his eye, and Spike prowled unnoticed after him.

Dawn stopped and bent over, apparently to adjust her bootlaces, and the man eyed her lasciviously. "Hey, baby, don't move," he leered, stopping right behind her and pressing his crotch flush against her butt. "I can think of just the perfect thing to do while you're in that position." He reached out his hand to fondle her ass but, before it had touched her, she whipped around, almost faster than the eye could follow, and grabbed his wrist.

"Y'know, that's really not very polite," she said, conversationally, holding his hand away from her and twisting his wrist back in a way that looked quite excruciating. Spike smirked.

He tugged his arm out of her grasp and stepped back a pace, a furious expression on his face. "What the hell is your problem, girl? You should be fucking flattered I bothered to even notice you, with that ugly-ass scar. You should be fucking _begging_ me to do whatever I want with you, cos you sure as shit aren't going to find anyone else who will!"

Spike stepped silently from the shadows behind the man, and said quietly, "Is that so?" He paced around him until he reached Dawn, then stood possessively behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He was still wearing his human face, but he allowed his eyes to flash gold as the man glared at him, and enjoyed hearing his pulse race in fear.

"What the fuck are you two playing at?" the man blustered. "Are you mugging me or something?"

"No," Dawn said calmly. "We just noticed your lack of manners when you were leering at me a moment ago, and we thought you might benefit from a basic lesson in etiquette." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a flick knife. It wasn't a particularly impressive looking knife. Its blade was neither curved nor notched, its handle didn't sparkle with jewels or shine metallically. It was a purely functional item, which made it look all the more menacing. She didn't threaten him with it, she simply held it loosely in her hand, but his eyes seemed unable to leave it. She moved closer to him, and he backed away swiftly until he met the wall.

"P-Please," he stammered. "Please don't h-hurt me!"

She leaned towards him and said quietly, "Remember this feeling. This is the way that women feel when you come up behind them in an alley, or corner them in a club bathroom. It's not very nice, is it?" He shook his head frantically. "Now go away." She sank back into Spike's embrace, pocketing the knife again.

The knife's departure seemed to breathe some life back into the man again, and as he turned to leave, he muttered under his breath, "Fucking crazy bitch."

There was a blur of movement, and suddenly Spike was in front of him, blocking his path. "Say that again. I dare you," he whispered menacingly, his teeth lengthening to fangs. With a shriek, the man span around and fled in the opposite direction, leaving them alone in the alley.

As soon as he was gone, Dawn began to giggle uncontrollably. "Did you see his face when he saw the knife?"

Spike grinned broadly. "And there I was, worried that I'd have to reassure you that we were making the world a better place by stopping a potential rapist."

"Screw helping the helpless, I just enjoyed seeing that bastard squirm!"

Spike pulled her into a fierce hug, and whispered, "I love you, pet."

~*~

The Bronze was crowded and noisy, and Dawn faltered in the doorway as they entered. Spike squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear, "You'll be fine, pet. You're strong, remember?" Dawn drew herself up and nodded.

They strode into the darkened club, still holding hands. Dawn looked around, surveying the crowd until she saw Janice on the dance floor. She caught her friend's eye and waved, and Janice rushed over to them. "I thought you'd never get here!" she squealed, then noticed Spike. "Whoa…" She stared at him appraisingly for a long moment, until, embarrassed by the attention, he excused himself and pushed his way towards the bar.

Janice turned back to Dawn and said, "Okay, he is officially a hottie! And look at you tonight! Everyone, and I mean _everyone_, is totally staring at you. And it's not just the scar, seriously. But, I mean, why didn't you do something to cover it? Like, some make up or something would totally fix it."

"The doctor said to let it air," Dawn said, then changed the subject. "So, was that Lucas I saw you dancing with when I came in?" She didn't want to discuss her scar with anyone. Especially not when Spike's complimentary words were still fresh in her mind. She was starting to feel… not happy, she'd still rather not have it, but… proud of her wound.

So, gossiping normally, they perched on the bar stools and waited for Spike to return with drinks.

~*~

"Don't leave me here on my own," Spike pleaded, looking uncomfortably around at the crowded dance floor.

"I won't be gone long," Dawn said, grinning. "We're not scaling Mount Everest or anything, it's just a trip to the bathroom." She leaned up and kissed him briefly on the cheek, then hurried after Janice towards the toilets.

Spike groaned and sank back down into the sagging old sofa, trying to close his ears against the sound of the band that was currently mangling the songs of The Clash. _No, they're not climbing a mountain, but they're two teenage girls going to the loo together to talk about boys – the mountain might be quicker_. He glanced back over towards the stairs, hoping against hope to see Dawn returning, and sank even lower into the sofa at the sight of a familiar blonde figure.

_If the universe had any sort of flair for drama, they'd be playing 'Should I Stay Or Should I Go' right now_, he grumbled silently. All of a sudden, he was very glad that Dawn was in the bathroom – he really did not fancy having to explain to the Slayer what they were doing here together.

"What the hell are you doing here, Spike?" Buffy asked coldly, stopping beside his couch.

"Me?" he asked innocently. "Just having a beer and listening to some punk classics." He winced as the guitar screeched abruptly, then forced his face back into a less pained expression. "What about you, Slayer? Didn't really picture this as your scene."

She scowled at him. "As a matter of fact, Spike, I was looking for you. I just didn't actually expect to find you here. It's a bit loud in here," she added, with a cold smile. "Let's go outside."

His stomach lurching, he followed her towards the fire escape at the back of the club.

"What's this about, Slayer?" he asked as soon as they left the noisy club. Ignoring him, she led him down a deserted alley, then stopped.

"I found something very interesting today," she said, conversationally. "I went by your crypt."

"My crypt?" Spike asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Yes, your crypt," she snapped. "You know, the one in the cemetery. Where all the dead things live."

"Ah. That crypt." Spike didn't bother telling her that he had moved. He didn't really want the Slayer dropping by whenever she or her little groupies needed a favour.

"Yes, that crypt," she sneered. "And I found something very interesting there." She paused and looked at him expectantly. When he didn't react, she feigned a hurt expression. "I'm insulted. I thought that you'd at least pretend that you didn't do it."

"Before I did that, I'd have to know what you're talking about."

He didn't see her move, but suddenly he was pinned against the wall of the alley, and she was pressing a stake inexorably through his ribcage. He tried to shove her away, but his chip seared in pain. He let out a roar and clutched his temples. "Don't play games with me," she snapped, twisting the wood. "I know perfectly well your chip doesn't work."

"What are you talking abo-" He broke off, groaning, as she gave the stake another vicious jerk.

"I found the bodies," she hissed. "You tied them up and slit their throats, and you didn't even bother to hide them. Did you think that we'd never think to look? That we _trusted_ you?" She looked at him in disgust, as though he was something repulsive stuck to the sole of her shoe, fit only to be scraped off and thrown away. "You sicken me, Spike."

"Buffy, _no_!" Dawn's voice shrieked from the mouth of the alley. She sprinted towards them and cannoned into Buffy, who, taken by surprise, was knocked off balance. She stumbled aside, her stake falling to the ground. Dawn through herself at Spike and hugged him desperately, panic in her every feature.

"It's okay, pet, I'm alright, I promise," he murmured reassuringly.

Buffy staggered to her feet and glared at Dawn. "Get away from him, Dawnie, right now!"

"You were going to kill him!"

"And I still am," Buffy replied, fury in her voice. "He's killing again, Dawnie! His chip is broken! Now get away from him before he hurts you!"

"I would never, ever hurt her," Spike snapped, putting his own arm around Dawn's waist protectively.

"Dawn, you can't believe him, he's a vampire! He has no soul!" Buffy cried desperately. "He's evil again!"

"I was always evil, Slayer," Spike said, derisively.

"Listen to him, Dawn!" Buffy almost shrieked. "How can you want to protect him? He's evil – he admitted it himself! He murdered those poor men in the crypt – he chained them up and cut their throats!"

"Spike only killed one of those men," Dawn said, calmly. "I did the other one."

Buffy stared goggle-eyed at her sister for a moment, then the blood drained from her face and she collapsed in a heap on the filthy ground of the alley.

Spike chuckled at her dramatic reaction, then sighed when he saw the worried look on Dawn's face. "We could just leave her here?" he asked hopefully. "I really don't want to be around when she wakes up and tries to kill me for corrupting you." Dawn gave him a stern look, and he groaned. "I know, I know." He stooped down and picked the still figure up in his arms, then turned back to Dawn. "Back to your house?"

Dawn shook her head. "I think we should take her to Giles' place. I don't really want to tell Mom I'm a murderer just yet." She wrapped one arm around his waist as they walked out of the alley.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Good Lord," Giles exclaimed when he opened the door. "What happened? I-is she alright?"

"Slayer's fine, Watcher. Just had a bit of a shock." Spike tried to push past him into the apartment, but an invisible barrier blocked his path. "What the-"

Xander stepped into view, a cross in his hand. "Back, demon!" he shouted, jabbing the cross at him. Spike took a step backwards and almost lost his grip on Buffy. "Hey, be careful with her!" Xander exclaimed, waving the cross.

"Oh for goodness-" Dawn stepped around Spike, rolling her eyes, and snatched the cross from Xander's hand. Then she stepped over the threshold and said, "Come in, Spike."

"Hey!" Willow's voice sounded annoyed. "I just finished de-inviting him! What did you go and do that for, Dawnie?"

"Dawn, you can't just invite him in!" Xander said indignantly. "Buffy said he's killing people again!"

"Person, not people," Dawn said absently, clearing a space on the sofa, which was cluttered with magic books and spell ingredients, where Spike could place Buffy. She looked up when she had made her sister comfortable, to see Giles, Willow and Xander staring at her. "He only killed one person," she clarified. "Not 'people'."

"But that doesn't mean he's only _going_ to kill one person," Willow said, in a reasonable tone. "If he was able to kill once, he'll do it again."

"Wish I could, Red, I really do," Spike said wistfully. "But the chip's still working. Still get the horrific pain if I so much as bump into one of you human lot. It only seems to let me protect the Nibblet."

"Protecting her?" Giles said, interested. "How do you mean? What sequence of events allowed you to… take a life in her defence?"

"It was the two guys that attacked me," Dawn explained. "Spike found them and brought them to the crypt, cos that was where they'd kept me, and-"

"What guys?" Willow interrupted, a confused expression on her face. "What crypt? What's all this?"

Xander looked just as confused. "Yeah, I thought you were attacked by a demon?"

"No bloody demon did that to the Nibblet," Spike said quietly. "Demons don't use whips and knives and hot metal to torture. They have their own claws and teeth, and that's all they need. Vampires might use those things, but there was no vampire smell on her when I found it. Just the stink of men. All over her."

A horrified expression came over Willow's face. "Surely you don't mean…"

"_All_ over her," Spike stressed. He noticed the slight shake of Dawn's shoulders, and wrapped his arm around her, comfortingly. "Anyway," he said, moving on from the topic. "I found the bastards that did it, brought them back to the crypt they'd used, tied them up and brought the Nibblet down to confront them."

"Brought her down to kill them, you mean." Buffy's voice said hoarsely from the couch. They all jumped at her voice, and Giles, Willow and Xander gaped first at her, then at Dawn.

"That too," Spike agreed. "If she wanted to. I wasn't going to force her." He grinned, showing more tooth than was normal. "Not that she needed forcing."

"D-Dawn killed someone? _Dawn_?" Giles stammered, aghast.

"That's right," Buffy said coldly. "My little sister is a soulless murderer."

Dawn blanched at the hatred in her words. She mumbled, "Excuse me," and stumbled out of the room, tears in her eyes. Spike started after her, but the bathroom door clicked shut a few moments later, and he re-entered the room, a furious expression on his face.

"She is not soulless," he snapped.

"Oh, no, of course not. People with souls do that sort of thing all the time," Buffy said sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact, they do. In fact, they do much worse things. Mortals manage to do sick, twisted things to each other perfectly well, even with the burden of a soul. Serial killers have souls. _Hitler_ had a soul. Those raping, sadistic bastards that did this to her had souls!" He broke off, his eyes glinting gold, and fought for control. "You should be proud of her."

"Proud of her?!" Buffy laughed mirthlessly. "For slaughtering a human being? Oh, of course, what's _not_ to be proud of?!"

"Look at her! You all saw what she was like in the hospital, and when you brought her home as well! She wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping, wasn't doing anything! They didn't kill her, and she didn't do anything to finish it herself, but she was still dying!" He gestured towards the bathroom. "And look at her now. She's almost completely healed."

"And you think _you_ did that?" Buffy spat.

"No, I think _she_ did that. She confronted them. She got her revenge on them. And then she moved on. If she hadn't had the opportunity to do that, she'd probably still be sitting in her bedroom, wasting away, reliving the six worst days of her life. Until she died." He pushed past her and exited the room, going to stand outside the bathroom and comfort Dawn through the door.

Buffy stood glaring after him, spluttering in fury. "Can you believe him?" she demanded. Xander and Willow chimed in with their outrage, but Giles stayed silent. Buffy turned to him, and asked, "You don't actually _agree_ with what he did, do you?"

Giles removed his glasses and polished them. "I don't think he was well-advised to allow her to kill them." There was a hard look in his eyes that Buffy had never seen before. "Especially as it means that I won't be able to do so." He noticed the shocked look Buffy was giving him, and continued, "Spike informed me that Dawn's kidnappers were human when we were in the hospital. Since then, I have been making enquiries to try and locate them, so that they could learn the error of their ways. I assure you, I have dreamt up many scenarios that were much worse than what Dawn put them through. Although, I must admit that it does seem to have put new life into her."

Unexpectedly, Xander chipped in. "The G-man is right. I didn't know it was people who did this to her, but when I thought it was demons I was all ready to kill them, and that hasn't changed much since I learned they were human. They deserved whatever she did to them."

Willow nodded too. "Yeah!" she said, her voice shaky but strong. "If they weren't already dead, I'd-" She paused and looked down at the spell book in her hands, flicking pages for a moment before stopping and continuing, "Turn them inside out and fill them with bees." She continued looking fierce for a moment, then her face screwed up. "Ew. Who writes these books? But still, I'd do that!"

Buffy stared at them, open-mouthed. "B-but… No, you guys wouldn't do that! You couldn't! C-could you?"

Giles said, "Buffy, you're the Slayer. You have a very strong moral compass. You kill monsters to save people. All people. So you are hesitant to take a human life. But most people don't get to save the world. They aren't linked to everyone in the world because they have saved them. They – we – find it easier to kill people, if the cause is right."

"And Dawn's a good cause, Buff," Xander added. The other two nodded their agreement.

"But they were people! Humans!" Buffy shouted desperately.

"So what?" came Dawn's quiet voice from the hallway. They all turned to look at her. She was pale, and her eyes were red from crying, but she shrugged off Spike's supporting arm and stood tall. "So what if they were human? Some humans are just evil. Just like some demons are just good."

"You can't possibly mean Spike?" Buffy gasped, appalled.

"Him? Hell no, he's evil," Dawn said, with a wobbly smile. "But being a human or a demon doesn't automatically make you good or evil."

"Yeah," Xander chimed in again. "Look at Anya. She was a demon for over a thousand years. She did horrible things to people."

"But she's human now!" Buffy said, triumphantly.

"She still wants to do those things," Xander pointed out gently. "She misses being a demon. But she's trying to be human. She's trying to be good. That's the point – being human doesn't automatically make her good. She has to try."

Dawn nodded. "It's what you do that counts. And those bastards did evil things to me."

"To be fair, pet, you did kill them," Spike said reasonably. "You're not actually tipping the scales too much towards the side of good."

"Well, yeah. But I don't really want to be _too_ good," Dawn said, grinning up at Spike.

He beamed and said, "That's my girl."

Buffy growled and stalked out of the apartment, slamming the front door behind her.

~*~

"So you were able to kill him in order to protect Dawn?" Giles asked, peering first at Spike, then at his notebook as he jotted down his observations. "Fascinating."

"But why would you care about protecting her?" Xander asked from the kitchen, where he was rifling through the cupboards, searching for snacks. "I thought you were all evil. Isn't that what you keep telling us?" He grinned around at the others. "Doesn't sound very evil to me, saving the Slayer's sister."

"Does hiring Krashnov demons to ritually disembowel you and feed you your own intestines sound evil enough?" Spike growled at him. He smirked inwardly as the blood drained from Xander's face.

But the smirk was wiped from his face as Willow said, thoughtfully, "He does have a point, though. Why do you care what happens to Dawn? I thought you didn't care about any of us."

"I _don't_ care about any of you," Spike replied hotly. "You people can rot, for all I care." Willow peered intently at him, and he fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "I just..." he mumbled. "I just don't want her to get hurt, is all."

Willow's eyes widened in comprehension, and she said quietly, "Neither do we. And we'll make anyone who does, regret it. Anyone," she repeated, holding his gaze until he nodded his understanding. He had never thought of her as a threat before, but now he could see her power and her loyalty, and he knew that if he ever did anything to hurt Dawn, she would make him pay.And from the look on Giles' face, Spike knew she wouldn't be the only one.

_But that won't be an issue_, Spike thought. _If I ever hurt the Nibblet, I'll put a stake through my heart myself._


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Spike unlocked his front door wearily and staggered inside. _Bloody exhausting Scoobies and their never-ending questions_, he grumbled to himself. _Who the hell cares about why the damn chip let me kill that wanker, as long as it did? And does that bloody Watcher ever sleep, or does he absorb energy by asking confusing questions? _He had been stuck at Giles' apartment for over twenty-four hours, and between Willow's interested queries and Giles' meticulous note-taking, he had been answering their questions for almost the entire time.

He shuffled in to the kitchen and pulled a bag of blood from the fridge. Without waiting to warm it up, he sank his teeth into the bag and chugged it down, wincing as he did so. He hated cold blood. It always made him feel like he was eating leftovers, like drinking from a corpse. It was... distasteful. But he was far too tired to wait the eighty five seconds it would take to warm it to the perfect temperature in the microwave.

When he had drained the bag, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, brushed his teeth over the sink, then, finally, collapsed into his bed. No sooner had he closed his eyes, however, when he heard a key rattling in the front door, and he groaned. _Should never have given her a key_.

"Spike?" Dawn's voice called from the sitting room. "You here?"

Spike clamped a pillow over his face and ears, and said in a muffled voice, "No, sod off!" His pillow was tugged away, and he peered blearily up into Dawn's smiling face.

"What are you so grumpy about?" she asked, grinning. "Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"No, I haven't had a chance yet," he groaned. "Your bloody Scooby friends were asking so many sodding questions last night that I wasn't able to escape before dawn, so I had to stay there. So they kept asking me more bloody question!"

"Poor Spikey," Dawn said in a mock-sypathetic tone. "Does the nasty ickle vampire get gwumpy if he doesn't have a good day's sleep?" He growled half-heartedly at her, and she grinned more broadly, then her expression softened into a fond smile. She kicked off her shoes and climbed under the covers, snuggling up behind him.

He felt himself drifting off to sleep in her warm embrace, but he forced himself to stay conscious long enough to mumble, "Should get you back home before it gets too dark."

"Don't worry about it – Mom thinks I'm staying over at Janice's." She propped herself up on one elbow and planted a gentle kiss on his jawbone. "Go to sleep, ickle vampire. I'll still be here when you wake up."

With a sigh of relief, he sank into unconsciousness.

~*~

He awoke reluctantly to the scent of charred bread, and the feeling of his stomch growling. He opened his eyes and saw Dawn sitting on the side of the bed, eating a slice of toast. "I brought you breakfast," she announced cheerfully when she noticed he was awake. She looked down at the piece of toast and her face fell. "Oh. This was supposed to be for you too. I burnt mine." Then she perked up again as she offered the crust and asked, "You want?"

Spike shook his head, then grinned at the look of relief that flitted across her face as she took another bite of the toast. "So, where's my breakfast then?" he asked. "No Dawn surprise for me this morning?"

"Nope," Dawn said around her mouthful of toast, then, seeing Spike's disappointment, she swallowed hurriedly and continued, "See, I figured you might prefer something else today."

"Something other than Dawn surprise?" Spike pretended to think about it for a few moments, then said, "Impossible!"

Dawn brushed her hair back from her neck and tilted her head to expose the long pale line of her throat. "Not even just Dawn, with no surprises?"

Spike swallowed with an audible gulp, and leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on the tender skin stretched taut on her neck. He ran his fingers gently from her ear to her shoulder, causing her to sigh and shiver with anticipation. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?" she whispered.

He bent to place a gentle kiss on her neck, and breathed, "No."

"Good."

~*~

Dawn lay with her cheek on Spike's cool chest as he sprawled on the bed, his face relaxed into almost innocence. He looked so human, but the stillness beneath her where his heart should have been beating – in fact, pounding, after all the exertion – reminded her of what he was. "Spike, you're all evil and stuff, right?"

"For the thousanth time, yes! Why does everyone have such trouble grasping this basic concept?" he grumbled. "Vampire equals evil!"

"Chillax, fangface," Dawn said with a grin. "I'm just checking. So, being evil and all, you naturally wouldn't have any problem, say, buying a gun for an underage person?"

He opened his eyes and raised his head slightly so that he was looking down his body at her. "Huh?" he said, intelligently.

"I want to be able to defend myself. And the knife is fine to use is when it's humans, but there are an awful lot of non-human things in this town that I don't want to have to get that close to."

"I should bloody well hope so," Spike exclaimed. "I'm the only non-human you should be getting close to!"

Dawn snuggled against him. "And you're a very nice non-human to be getting close to," she assured him. "But we live on the Hellmouth. I don't want the only defences I have against a passing vampire or a random scaly monster to be a small knife, and a sister with super powers who is usually very far away. And you," she added, seeing his hurt look. "You're a good defence too. But I want to be able to defend myself. And I don't think there's much point in me trying to learn Buffy's ninja moves, or how to use an axe or a sword or any of the up-clos-and-personal stuff, cos I don't have the slayer strenth. But if I had a gun, I reckon I'd be as safe as anyone can be in a place like this."

"You've been practicing this, haven't you?" Spike said with a wry grin.

"Did it work?" Dawn asked eagerly.

Spike sighed. "I'll ask around, see if I can find something. Why'm I never able to say no to you?"

Dawn lay back on the bed, her hands locked behind her head, and a look of triumph on her face. "Because I'm awesome."

~*~

Dawn sat on her bed chewing absently on the pencil in her mouth, staring at the book which lay open in front of her. There was a light tap on her window, but she didn't look up, still gazing at the book with a puzzled frown. A louder tap sounded, then, when this did not yield results, a sustained knocking. Her eyes still out of focus, Dawn raised her head from the book and looked confusedly around her. She finally focused on the window and saw a figure outside, glaring impatiently in at her. She jumped up from the bed and hurried to unlock her window, whispering her apologies as she did so.

"What's so fascinating that you didn't notice me, pet?" Spike asked, wiggling his way through the window.

"I'm trying to do my algebra homework, but I can't get this one problem out. It's bugging me."

"Well, I can't help you there. Was never to fond of arithmetic myself as a lad. Always preferred poetry." He froze, and hastily tried to correct himself. "I mean, er, boxing, and rugby, and... er... other pastimes of men!" He paused. "You're not buying this, are you?"

Dawn shook her head, grinning. "Poetry, huh?"

"If you ever tell anyone about this, I will skin you and make it look like an accident."

"Understood," Dawn said, laughing. "So, why are you here? Not that I'm not very glad to see you, but Buffy's in the room next door and she's none too happy with you at the moment, and I so don't want a big pile of dust for a boyfriend."

"I came to bring you – boyfriend?" Spike broke off, distracted.

"Too teenager-y?" Dawn asked, a little worried. "I could call you my sexy undead lover instead, but it's not quite as catchy."

Spike smiled. "No, I like boyfriend. I've just never been called that before. Boyfriend," he said in a thoughtful voice, still smiling, then he reached into his pocket. "Anyway, I brought you this." He held out a small gun which shone in the light of the bedside lamp. Dawn's eyes widened and she took the gun from him and inspected it gingerly.

"It's a Glock 19, apparently," he told her. "I'm not very good with guns, prefer more personal involvement myself, but the chap who got this for me says it's good for girls. It's a compact, so it's small enough for your dainty little hands." He ducked to avoid the playful slap she aimed at him. "He says it takes 15 bullets, and there's a demon in town who carves wooden 9mm bullets, so you can carry those in a spare cartilage. I'll bring you out to his place at the weekend, and he'll teach you how to shoot it and clean it and whatever else you need to know. What do you think?"

"It's perfect," she said, beaming up at him. "But you couldn't have got it in pink?"

Spike groaned.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter Twelve

"What are you doing?" Dawn asked, standing outside Buffy's door.

"My boyfriend," Buffy's irritated voice called from within. "Go away!"

"Liar," Dawn called back, amused. "Are you doing magic? I can smell your stinky incense down the hall."

"Go away!" her sister snapped back.

Dawn grinned and headed back to her room. Her mission had been accomplished – Buffy would be too annoyed with her to check on her all evening, so Dawn would be able to do whatever she wanted once Joyce left.

~*~

Dawn crept down the stairs, then froze when she heard voices in the sitting room. _Crap! I was sure Mom had gone already! _She turned and hurried back up to her room, trying to make as little noise as possible. She hadn't been there long when Buffy opened the door and wandered in, looking around at the room as though not seeing it properly. "Buffy! Who said you could come in my room?" Dawn said, angrily.

Buffy stared at her for a few long moments, then said in a strange, far-away voice, "You're not my sister."

Hurt by the words, but trying not to show it, she said snidely, "Yeah, like I even want to be related to-" She broke off as Buffy grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"What are you?" Buffy demanded.

"Get off of me!"

"You wanna hurt me? Then you deal with me!"

"I'm telling Mom!" Dawn's voice was growing more panicked – Buffy's grip was really strong.

"You stay away from my mother!" Buffy yelled, slamming her backwards into the door of her closet. The impact knocked the breath out of her, but she kept her balance and glared in shock at her sister. Buffy glared back.

Then the phone rang, and Buffy went downstairs to answer it, leaving Dawn standing in her bedroom, wiping angrily at her tears with her sleeve.

~*~

When the door clicked shut after Buffy as she left to go on patrol, Dawn picked up her bag and descended the stair once more. She still had tears in her eyes as she stumbled down the steps, but she didn't cry out when a pair of leather-clad arms wrapped around her.

"Hello Spike," she whispered, the lump in her throat preventing her from speaking clearly.

He cupped a hand under her chin and tilted her head up so he could look her in the eyes. "You've been crying." He spoke softly, but there was a look of hard fury on his face. "What happened?"

"Buffy said I wasn't her sister," Dawn said, the hurt still apparent in her voice. "She was acting like she was on drugs or something. It was like she couldn't see me at first, and then she thought I was going to hurt Mom."

Spike hugged her tight and said soothingly, "You know you won't, pet. That's what matters. Leave the Slayer have her paranoia and her drugs." He said in a cheerier tone, "Would following her and watching her get beaten up by monsters and nasties help?" A small smile crept across Dawn's face, and she nodded. "Off we go then," Spike said encouragingly.

She looked at the ground as they walked out from under the shadow of the tree and asked wryly, "Been here long?"

Spike followed her gaze to the cluster of cigarette butts littering the ground by his feet, and smiled sheepishly. "Well, if you'd been out when you said you would-"

Dawn smacked him across the back of the head and said with a smile, "Shut up, you insensitive jerk." Bickering happily, they walked off down the road together.

~*~

Buffy crouched beside the battered body of a brown-robed monk. Panting with the effort of staying alive, he gasped, "The Key. You must protect the Key."

"Fine," Buffy whispered, looking desperately around her. "We can protect the Key together, okay? Just far, far from here."

"Many more… die if you don't keep it… safe."

"How? What is it?" Buffy said, looking nervously over her shoulder.

"The Key is energy. It's a portal. It opens the door."

"The Dagon sphere?" Buffy asked, confused.

"No. For centuries it had no form at all, my brethren its only keepers. Then, the Abomination found us. We had to hide the Key, gave it form, moulded it flesh and sent it to you."

Buffy gaped at him. "Dawn?" she whispered.

"She is the Key."

"You put that in my house?" she spat, appalled.

"We knew the Slayer would protect-"

"My memories… My Mom's…"

"We built them," the monk stated.

"Then unbuild them! This is my life you're-"

The monk coughed weakly, spluttering blood. "You cannot abandon…"

"I didn't ask for this. I don't even know – what is she?"

"Human. Now human and helpless. Please. She's an innocent in this. She needs you."

"She's not my sister?"

"She doesn't know that." His eyes went blank and his body stilled as his life left him. Buffy knelt where she was for a few long moments, then she got to her feet and walked away, leaving his body on the ground.

The two figures sitting crouched in the bushes a few yards away stared in silence after her.

~*~

Dawn walked in the door and sat down on Spike's bed, without a word. Spike looked at her, worried. "Nibblet, are you okay? You haven't said anything about… You haven't said anything yet." Dawn didn't respond, but continued to stare blankly in front of her, her eyes unfocused. "I'll make you some hot chocolate?" Spike asked, trying to think of something that might make her feel better. "Like Joyce does, with marshmallows, okay?" There was still no response.

He left the door to the tiny bedroom open as he prepared the drink, turning to look over his shoulder at her occasionally. He was really worried about her. Not that it came as much surprise to him that she wasn't an ordinary mortal. _I knew that the first time I tasted her. No mortal is that powerful_. At the thought of her blood, he licked his lips, almost able to taste her again.

Then his eyes widened. He wasn't just imagining her blood – the scent of it was everywhere! He whirled around and sped back into the bedroom. She was still sitting on the bed, but a pool of blood surrounded her. She was staring down at her little switch knife, which was covered with blood, and she was bleeding profusely from a vicious gash on her forearm.

She looked up at him as he entered, her eyes still unfocused. "Is this blood?"

"Nibblet…" Spike began, but she interrupted him.

"This is blood, isn't it? You know about blood and stuff. Tell me – it's blood, isn't it? It can't be me. I'm not a Key. I'm not a _thing_." She began to sob. "What am I? Am I real? Am I _anything_?"

He sat down beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. "You _are_ real, pet. I promise you."

"How do you know?" she whispered.

"I'm a vampire. We know about this sort of thing," he said, echoing his own words from outside the crypt. Her lips twitched into a tiny smile, and he continued, heartened by her reaction. "I can feel your heart beating, pet. You're warm, and alive, and human. I promise."

"But he said I was energy. A portal."

"Past tense, Little Bit. You _were_ a portal. Now you're human. Although not quite as helpless as he thought," he added as an afterthought. "Trust me, Dawn."

She looked up at him, her face still wet with tears. "You're not surprised, are you?"

"I told you your blood was more powerful than anything I've ever tasted before, love, remember?" He ran his finger over the cut in her arm, then lifted it to his mouth and tasted it. "Blood which you are very callously wasting right now." She gave a weak smile, and raised her arm, offering it to him. He bent to lap at the congealing blood, and gave a groan as the power flooded through his useless veins once more. "This is even better than I remember," he said between mouthfuls.

"How do you know?" Dawn asked quietly.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"How do you know it's better? How do you know what I taste like? Everything about me is a lie. All your memories are lies. I'm a lie."

Spike looked her in the eyes. "I remember you, Dawn," he said firmly. "I remember the first time I met you, and how kind you were to me. I remember when you first let me drink from you. I remember how I felt when you were missing, and I remember helping you get your revenge. I remember loving you, and it feels the same today as it feels in my memories."

"But the memories aren't real," Dawn said, tears in her eyes again.

"Then we'll just have to make some new memories, won't we?" Spike said with a grin. He grasped her hand in his own and shook it. "There. First time we met." Then, still holding her hand, he lifted her arm up to his lips and gently ran his tongue along the length of her wound. His eyes closing in bliss, he panted, "First time I tasted you."

When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling. She reached down and tilted his face up to hers, then leaned in for a kiss. The first one was chaste, a mere peck on the lips. Spike shook his head. "No, no, that's not how our first kiss should be." He wrapped his hand in her hair and pressed his lips against hers again, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and nipping gently at it. Her tongue slid into his mouth and caressed his own.

After a few minutes they broke apart, both panting heavily. Dawn's face still glistened with tear tracks, and Spike leaned forward and kissed gently along them, cleaning the salty traces off her with his lips and tongue. He moved down over her jaw, still kissing softly, and suckled at her neck.

His hands moved from behind her head down her back until they reached the curve of her bottom. Then he tugged at her so that, with a squeak of surprise, she slid down the bed into a lying position. He swung his leg over her so that he was straddling her waist, then bent down to resume his nibbling of her neck.

One hand caressed her cheek and stroked her hair while he buried his face in her neck, and the other hand moved up over her waist, underneath her t-shirt, to cup her breast. She moaned as he ran his finger over her nipple through the bra, and slid her own hands down his body.

He closed his eyes in pleasure when he felt her hands on him through the tough fabric of his jeans, but they soon snapped open again when she unbuttoned his trousers. "What are you doing, Nibblet?" he whispered, not wanting to startle her into stopping, but also not wanting her to do something that she would regret.

"We're making new memories," she replied, her voice a little nervous, but husky with desire. Slowly, she slid down his zipper.


End file.
